


Hod Ma'alatcha

by AstriferousSprite



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Force-Sensitive Finn, Gen, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Post-Canon, Prince Finn, Rey Skywalker, in some sense i suppose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-12 22:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12969450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstriferousSprite/pseuds/AstriferousSprite
Summary: What was intended to be a diplomatic mission ends up not quite going to plan, when Finn is recognized as the planet's long-lost prince. Before he comes to terms with his future, however, he must reconcile with his identity--as well as the remaining shadows of his past.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After years of agonizing and planning and late-night discussions, it's finally here! Hope y'all enjoy.  
> Also, while I did technically write this, it would be rude of me to publish this without acknowledging [Deathbyspaceglam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/deathbyspaceglam)'s countless help with this, both by suggesting ideas and being willing to beta-read this. Couldn't be luckier to have a better person as a best friend.

**13 ABY; 5651 VY**

“Ladies, gentlemen, and distinguished citizens, it is my honor to commence the New Year.”

Queen Tikva smiled from her position on the brightly illuminated stand. “For millennia, Verakhat has been a cornerstone of independence, of self-sufficiency, of freedom,” she says, surveying the physical crowds of thousands—and, no doubt, the billions watching her planetwide. “No truer has this rung than with the harvest, where countless of hardworking individuals, having put forth insurmountable amounts of hard work, have reaped the sweet benefits.” She pauses. “We know the Force wishes to provide for us, and yet, to see us provide for ourselves. Thus,” she continues, cradling the toddler prince in her arms, “it has sowed us the seeds necessary to feed us, and waited for us to cultivate them ourselves, to become the masters of our own nourishment. And look at all the grandeur that has sprung forth from our hands!

“Thus, without further ado—”

She stopped. Though the clear evening seemed otherwise normal, Tikva couldn’t shake the feeling off that something was off.

Puzzled, Aria glanced over at her. “Tikva?”

Tikva closed her eyes. “It’s nothing,” she whispered to her wife, not confident in her words. “It’s probably nothing.”

And that’s when all hell broke loose.

Her guards were sharp, having spotted the ships before her; immediately, they grabbed the royal couple’s arms, dragging them away from the stage as hundreds of white-armored soldiers poured out of the transports, firing onto the crowd.

But wasn’t the Empire supposed to be…?

“What’s going on?” she shouted, holding young Moishe even closer to her chest. “Why are they here?”

No answer. Perhaps her guards were too nervous to spill the truth, or, more likely, they were just as in the dark as she was.

In the rush, Moishe had begun wailing out of fright. Tikva gently shushed him. “You’ll be fine,” she whispered, placing a hesitant kiss to his curly head as they kept running away from the scene. “Just fine, I promise.”

“Your Majesties!”

Tikva found herself halted by Lyra, the youngest member of the guard. “It’s too dangerous for you to stick together. They might be looking for the entire Royal family.” She extended her arms. “Leave the prince to me.”

Tikva drew him closer. “Absolutely not—”

A blaster fired off only meters away.

She sighed, steeling her jaw. “Alright,” she said, hesitantly handing Moishe over to Lyra. “But, please, make sure he’s safe.”

“I promise His Highness will be safe with me,” said Lyra, already turning and running in the opposite direction.

Another blaster shot. Realizing how close the danger was, the queens kept following the guards to the guarded transports, heavily armored and tinted. “And you are not to leave until the prince returns,” Aria was telling the driver. “Not until he returns, understood?”

“Understood.”

The minutes passed in the backseat. Tikva was holding on to her wife’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

A dark look crossed the captain’s face as he tried to tune his earpiece. “Your Majesty,” he said, “We’ve lost connection with Miss Deyarin.”

Tikva sank back into her seat, shivering violently. “No,” she whispered, as Aria kept holding onto her. “No, no, that can’t be, that can’t—”

That couldn’t be, not when she promised that—

“No,” she said once more in a shaking voice, tears rolling down her face as she struggled to keep her composure.

Aria was less hesitant, openly embracing her wife as she sobbed onto her shoulder. Still shocked, Tikva dimly held her back, looking ahead.

“He’s got to be alive,” she whispered, as Aria continued to sob. “Darling, I promise, he’s still alive.”

 

 

**37 ABY; 5675 VY**

“So, what’s this planet called again?” asked Finn, peering at the star chart Poe had spread on the table.

“Verakhat,” said Poe, pronouncing the rough name flawlessly. “Constitutional monarchy in the Outer Rim, independent for the most part.”

“For the most part?” Finn raised an eyebrow.

“Well, they’ve had a few scuffles with the Empire back in the day, and there was a massive First Order attack on them around twenty-five years ago, but they’ve mostly remained under the radar.” He gestured again to the projection of the planet in front of them. “The one problem is that they’ve also been independent from the Republic, and that’s not really ideal in the future we envision.”

“Because who knows what shadowy organizations might be secretly developing there, right?”

“Well, yes,” said Poe, “though even if it’s completely trustworthy, we’d still prefer them not to stay isolated. A divided galaxy can never grow strong, after all.”

“At the very least, it would be cool if they supported the Republic,” added Rose, “but, you know, even better if they actually joined us.” She rubbed her temples. “Force knows there’s already been too much political chaos.”

“Tell me about it,” said Finn. “So, the gist is, we’re sending envoys to talk them into cooperation with us to prevent any hidden politics, right?”

“Precisely.” Poe looked back up at the spinning blue projection of Verakhat and its two moons. “Force willing, this’ll work, and the Republic will gain a powerful ally.”

“Who _are_ we sending as envoys, anyways?” asked Rose.

Poe grinned. “The three former Resistance officers currently talking about it.”

“No way.” Rose’s eyes widened. “You mean—we’re _doing_ this?”

“We’re doing this.” Poe gently wrapped his arm around Finn. “Just like old times, buddy. The three of us on our way to stop evil together.”

“Only this time, without the threat of the First Order,” said Finn, leaning into Poe.

“Hopefully, yeah.”

Finn couldn’t say he wasn’t nervous about the prospect—first impressions were always a bit nerve-wracking for him, after all. Still, the thought of the three of them going on a mission that was strictly diplomatic in nature did fill him with a sense of hope. Even after the official end of the war and the fall of the Order the year prior, there were still rogue battalions and splinter groups they had to deal with, and the newly-repaired Republic was still wracked with ongoing tensions.

Rose folded her arms. “When do we leave?”

“As soon as we get clearance from the chancellor,” said Poe. Finn couldn’t help but chuckle—hearing Poe call their own General a chancellor still seemed foreign to him. “She just needs our pilot to arrange approval to land on the planet, and then she’ll give us the ok.”

“Fantastic.”

Finn couldn’t help but gaze in awe at the spinning projection in front of them. Even with the standard blue filter, Verakhat still looked majestic, with its thin, wide rings and two moons slowly orbiting around it. He could easily see how this planet could be such a powerful kingdom, unwilling to submit to any governing body.

Still, he hoped that they’d earn some amount of cooperation from the royal couple, and any other minister/president/what-have-you representing the government. Poe was right—the history of this galaxy had been chaotic enough. Frankly, it was about time for a little bit of peace and quiet.

Poe’s datapad beeped. Upon examining it, he nodded and turned to the others. “We’ve just got clearance from the government—we’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

Rose pursed her lips. “Bit early, isn’t it?”

“Hey, never look a gift tauntaun in the mouth.” Poe let go of Finn, and started to walk away from the briefing table. “Think we’ve got enough time tonight to pack and take a quick sonic before we head off.” He scowled. “With someone else flying the freighter.”

Finn leaned back against Poe as they walked off. “Sounds good.”

 

The flight to Verakhat was a long one.

The three of them passed the time playing a few rounds of Sabacc and refreshing themselves on the politics of the planet they were about to land on. “So, they’ve got a queen and a president,” said Finn, scrolling through his datapad. “President Deyarin is a total isolationist, but the queen and her wife seem to be more open about making an alliance with the Republic—at least, in the past ten years or so.”

“That’ll definitely help us out,” said Rose, taking another bite of her ration bar (again, it was a long flight). “You got faces of them?”

“Yeah,” said Finn, setting it down and projecting the portrait of the royal couple. The three crowded around the datapad to see them.

Poe cracked a small grin. “It’s kinda funny, buddy. They look a hell of a lot like you.”

“Really?” Finn squinted his eyes, trying to make out the similarities between the queens and him. “I mean, I guess.”

Their pilot comes walking out of the cockpit. “We’re almost there,” she says. “You guys might wanna come see it.”

Setting aside the royal portrait, the three of them made their way to the front, where the viewport still only showed the rushing blue of hyperspace. With a flourish, their young pilot pulled them out, and they came face first with Verakhat.

“Oh,” whispered Finn, eyes wide.

Because the planet was a lot lovelier than what the dim projection from yesterday had let on. Beyond the blue glow of holograms, Verakhat was a marble of vibrant orange sands and deep blue oceans. Delicate golden rings snaked around the planet, while two bright white moons lazily circled in orbit. It was beautiful.

It was almost comforting.

As they got closer to their destination, the abstract surface gave way to sleek cities with proud, tall buildings, flowing with gentle evening traffic. At that signal, Finn knew they sadly had to exit the cockpit in preparation for their landing at the spaceport.

“And if that’s just the surface,” said Poe, pulling his suitcase from the overhead compartment, “imagine what the kriffing _palace_ is like.”

The ship landed (with Poe complaining about the jerkiness the entire way). The hatch opened, where they were greeted by a blast of warm, evening air. Finn tugged uncomfortably at the collar of his shirt—and he was used to lugging around several pounds of heavy armor on his body in the sweltering heat of Jakku. He couldn’t imagine how the other two were putting up—and then he saw Poe looking straight ahead, and remembered that he was, in fact, from the warm and humid Yavin. Such weak heat was probably nothing that he couldn’t handle.

They stepped outside, and were greeted to a wide stretch of tarmac underneath a blue sky—as well as two women, one white and one with warm copper skin, who were in far more elaborate clothes than their own, making Finn feel a bit self-conscious. It took him quite a bit to avoid tugging his shirt collar again.

“Good evening, Republic envoys,” said the tall white one, sticking out a hand in greeting. Finn recognized her as the president; she was dressed in sharply contrasting black and white, her headscarf pulled into a neat bun at the base of her skull. The only coloration came from the dark blue sash, held together with a silver medallion bearing the coat of arms—a six-pointed star with an engraving of the planet and its two moons within it. “President Lyra Deyarin.”

“Commander Finn,” he said, taking her hand; she had an unnaturally firm grip. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Commander,” said Deyarin, red lips curling up into a smirk upon her pointed face. “And may I be introduced to your charming colleagues?”

Finn (thankfully) let go. “Absolutely. Admiral Poe Dameron, Captain Rose Tico—” he gestured to them with his arm as he spoke “—Madame President.”

“Please, enough with this formality,” she said, walking over to shake their hands. “Call me Lyra.”

Poe greeted Lyra with a warm smile. Rose, though, seemed to have more of a grimace as she shook her hand, and frankly, Finn couldn’t blame her.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she said. Her voice had a firm, icy quality that Finn recognized from only a few other people—namely, Captain Phasma, or General/Chancellor Organa on a bad day. “Now, I believe we should head off—”

“Wait,” said Finn, looking at the woman on the president’s side. “We haven’t, er, had the pleasure of meeting your companion.”

Lyra paused. “That is true,” she said. “Sorry, this is Zora Gilean, the Secretary of State.”

“Welcome to Verakhat,” said Zora in a warm voice, holding out the hand not holding onto her cane with a quick bow of her head. She had a strong face, Finn noted as he shook her hand, and her headscarf was multicolored and hung in an intricate braid behind her. Her loose purple jacket was held together with a twisted belt and accented by a necklace made up almost entirely of silver bands.

“Thank you, Madame Secretary,” he said. “Pleased to meet you.”

“As am I,” she said, going through the motions with the rest of the party.

“Well, now that we’ve been introduced, shall we be off?” said Lyra, black skirt fluttering behind her as she turned on her heel. “Oh, and don’t you worry about that, Captain,” she continued, noticing Rose struggling with her heavy suitcase. “Your luggage shall be delivered directly to the hotel suite.”

She clapped her hands. Instantly, a sleek trolley came rolling towards them, seemingly running on its own. Poe whistled as they gratefully stacked their suitcases onto it.

“It will be safe in our hands.”

“But perhaps you should declare anything that we might wish to know about,” said Zora, hobbling over to stand at the base of the trolley. “Just so there’s no needless alarm.”

“Three blasters and a lightsaber shouldn’t cause any harm, right?” said Rose, rubbing her shoulders.

“Duly noted,” she said, typing something into the trolley, which beeped. “Thank you very much.”

The trolley rolled in front of them as they made their way from the tarmac to the terminal itself into a sleek, wide corridor with metal walls and security guards posted at spacious intervals. From there, their luggage was taken to a separate hallway by a group of neatly-dressed workers, while they passed through a rather quick round of security (“no need for excessive time with these scanners,” said Zora proudly). Lyra made no effort to hold a lengthy conversation with them, but Zora was more eager.

“You mentioned a lightsaber,” she said as they kept walking. “I thought the formal Jedi Order was all but extinct.”

 _We might as well be,_ thought Finn to himself.

Rose’s answer was a tiny bit politer. “They are, technically, but the Order’s in the process of being reformed.” She pointed to Finn. “This one’s a leading member.”

“You are?” she asked, in a warm tone of voice. Finn nodded. “Oh, how lovely.” She smiled. “I wish you the best of fortune in your efforts, Commander.”

Eventually, the group made their way through a series of sliding doors, leading to a wide hallway seemingly made up entirely of glass windows. A fountain cheerfully burbled in the center, surrounded by clippings of flowers.

“Welcome to Dayera,” said Zora, as groups of people passed by, some of them pausing to stare at the party. “It’s straight to the palace from here.”

Finn nodded. It was a bit difficult to pay attention when the windows beckoned them to look at the clear sky and the landscape of Verakhat.

Rose was the first to break. “Oh, Finn, look at it!” she squealed, grabbing his hand and pointing to the windows. “It’s so pretty!”

He honestly had to agree. Just like what they saw outside, Verakhat was indeed a desert—but rather than the harsh, dry heat of Jakku, it was full of life. The orange sand had numerous plants growing up from it—both landscaped flowers blooming in vivid colors along with tall wild grasses and palm trees with reddish bark. A flock of mottled birds with fiery crests were flying between their wide, green leaves, as a few clouds lazily drifted across the darkening sky.

It truly was beautiful. And yet…

“This all feels so familiar,” said Finn, furrowing his brows.

“What do you mean?” asked Rose, as Poe chuckled and said, “Still can’t shake off Jakku, huh?”

“It’s not that.” He turned bac to the windows, where a few birds were now pecking at the clay. “I just… I somehow feel like I’ve been here before.”

Behind him, Lyra tensed up.

“Madame President?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said, with a wave of her hand. “Our ride is right outside, so we really must be off.”

“Right.” Still, he couldn’t quite shake off the feeling that his presence might have been a disturbance.

True to the president’s words, a sleek silver shuttle was waiting outside for the five of them: a stark contrast against the stone and clay of the columns around it, and certainly a lot cooler inside than the warm desert heat.

“Blessed air conditioning,” Poe gasped as he lay his head against the seat. “God, it’s toasty outside.”

“Wimp,” said Rose, rolling her eyes. “Aren’t you the guy who grew up on a tropical—”

Finn tapped Poe’s shoulder. “Guys, I hate to interrupt, but—” He gestured outside. “—you both are missing some _incredible_ views.”

He smirked as he heard Poe’s “ _Kriff_ ” as he peered outside the window.

While they had gotten glimpses of it within the terminal, their view truly revealed the planet to be a blend of old and new in a manner Finn hardly thought possible before. The ancient stone buildings were encompassed by, and frequently incorporated into, sleek silver skyscrapers which shone in bright colors against the warm sunset. There were narrow alleyways full of fruit vendors, just steps away from the sleek hovertrain stations; flashy advertisements were being projected right next to ancient temples; he could have sworn there was a young rebel spray-painting a Republic Starbird onto the side of a white stone wall adorned with silver six-pointed stars. It was as if the modernity of Coruscant met with the antiquity of Yavin in the most perfect way possible.

Rose’s eyes widened. “I never knew you could have both.”

“We here in Verakhat have always prided ourselves on not letting ourselves be defined solely by the past or the future,” said Zora airily, as the transport moved on and Lyra continued to stay silent. “It’s always about looking in every direction equally: up and down, north and south, east and west.”

“Is that what all those stars mean?” asked Rose, her face practically glued to the windows.

“Precisely, Captain Tico.” She leaned back in her seat. “We believe the Force is all about balance, and the delicate balance between tradition and progress is no less important to us.”

The shuttle slowed to a stop.

“We’re here,” said Lyra as the doors slid open. “Welcome to Ir Drisha.”

Poe really _was_ right, Finn thought as he gaped at the scene in front of him, Poe squeezing his hand. Even the lovely cities had nothing on the palace.

The golden structure itself was only about a few stories high, but the sheer size of all the grounds made up for it, with sprawling walkways surrounded by a manicured garden, bunches of palm trees bearing fruit, and even two small ponds symmetrically arranged in front of the grand, tiled entrance. All around, crowds of people were walking through the trees—too many to be considered an exclusive group.

“Force,” he whispered. “And people are just allowed to come here as they please?”

Zora chuckled. “Indeed, Commander. The royal gardens are public property, and may be enjoyed by all who wish.”

“How lovely,” he said with a sigh. Mentally, he made a note to himself to take a vacation here sometime.

After a brisk walk, they arrived at the front doors, which were behind a tiled courtyard with elaborately carved pillars supporting wide, sweeping arches decorated with ornate geometric patterns. From the two visible towers hung square flags, with the same crest as was on Lyra’s sash: a ringed circle with the classic six-pointed star with Verakhat and its moons in the center. The doors themselves were flanked by two guards in identical brown tunics, violet sashes, and black capes. As soon as the group approached, they crossed their copper electrostaffs with an electric crackle.

“State your business with the Crown,” said the guard on the right, the low sun shining on her shaved head.

Lyra stepped forward. “These individuals are with the secretary and I,” she said, in a collected, commanding sort of voice. “They are to meet with Their Majesties on diplomatic terms on behalf of the Republic.”

“Their names?”

She looked back. “Poe Dameron, Rose Tico, and… Finn,” she said after a moment’s hesitation.

The guard was silent, regarding them—no, regarding _Finn_ with a stiflingly neutral expression.

Then, she and her partner uncrossed their staffs. “You may enter,” she declared, as they pulled the heavy doors open.

Finn exhaled.

“Proceed,” said Lyra, walking forward as the group followed her into the grand entrance hall.

Immediately, a neatly-dressed porter approached them. “President Deyarin, Secretary Gilean. Are these the Republic envoys accompanying you?”

“Indeed.”

He smiled. “Fantastic. Their Majesties shall expect you in their dining hall.” He turned on his heels. “Follow me.”

The footsteps they made echoed across the stone hall, joined by the clack of Zora’s cane. Finn wondered about that; the secretary seemed a bit young to need such aids, although she did struggle to keep up with the rest of them. Dimly, he wondered if something must have happened here years ago—perhaps it was a war injury of some sort.

Eventually, they reached the dining room. The same porter opened the door, let them in, and then shut it behind them, gesturing to the table already set for them. “Make yourselves comfortable,” he said. “The queens should be here soon.”

The plates at the elegant table had little place cards marking the positions of everyone. As expected, the queens were at the head of the table, with the president sitting to the right of them, and someone by the name of _Princess Naami_ to their left.

“That’s the princess, right?” asked Rose, searching for her place.

“Exactly,” said Zora, taking her place beside Lyra. “As the crown princess, Her Highness is expected to attend political sessions to fully understand the nuances of leadership. You are to sit next to me, by the way.”

That left Finn on the left of the princess, and Poe next to him. With almost everyone seated, all that was left was for the queens to make their entrance.

There was a knock at the door. Finn’s heart jumped.

“Distinguished guests,” said the porter, opening the door with a flourish of his arm, “may I present Their Majesties, Queen Tikva and Queen Consort Aria Altion.”

In walked two of the most regal women Finn had ever seen. The royal couple held themselves proudly, with a simple yet elegant wardrobe; the queen was in a bright yellow robe over an ornate golden gown, her headscarf fanning over head like the sun, while her consort had an embroidered blue overdress above a slender white dress, with her hair pinned back in an elegant bun. Something fond stirred in Finn’s chest as he regarded them.

“Good evening,” said Queen Tikva, her voice every bit as smooth and refined as her appearance.

And then she looked at Finn.

At the sight of him, her face fell as her eyebrows furrowed in anger—or perhaps it was concentration?

“Your Majesty?” he asked cautiously. “Is everything alright?”

“It’s just that… _oh._ ” Immediately, she recoiled. “I- _Moishe?_ ” she screamed.

“Who?”

“Oh stars, _Moishe—_ ” She reached for her wife. “Oh Force, it _is_ you!”

“Your Majesty—”

“I told you!” she said, embracing her wife, who was staring at Finn with a misty-eyed expression. “I told you he would come back to us, Aria, I knew it!”

“Wait, what—” Finn wrinkled his brows. “Your Majesties, is something—”

“Forgive my wife,” said Aria, walking over in a short elegant stride to look at Finn. “She’s just so happy to… well, I should explain.” She bit her lip, glancing at the place card. “Commander, have you ever given any thought to the life you had before the Order?”

“What do you mean?”

“Because I know all too well,” she whispered. “Before they took you away, your name was Moishe Altion. Yes,” she continued, cradling Finn’s face in her hands as his eyes widened, “you are the prince of this planet.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Welcome home, my son,” she choked out, before embracing him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes a while for the truth to sink in.

Finn, frankly, was dumbfounded.

Here he was, one moment, ready to politely negotiate with the royal family over dinner; the next, he had the wife of the queen sobbing into his shoulder as she declared him her child. And also, the prince.

Sure, this explained everything—the recognition, the awkward stares—but _kriff_ , being a _prince?_ This had to be a joke; there was no way someone like him could ever be—

“Well, what a surprise,” said the President with hardly any surprise in her voice. “I thought I’d lost the prince forever, I never thought he would have survived.”

“Oh, but he did,” sobbed Queen Tikva—his _mother—_ as she joined the apparent family reunion, “and he found his way back to us, just like I predicted, oh, _Moishe!_ ”

Finn didn’t know what else to do beside keep hugging the royal couple—his _parents._ Wow, this was going to take some getting used to. He had parents. He had a family.

He had an entire kingdom waiting for him.

His parents finally let go of him, though Tikva (mom one?) kept holding onto his arms. “And who are these wonderful people who brought you back to us?” she asked softly.

Finn sighed, not ready for another round of introductions. “Poe Dameron and Rose Tico,” he said drily.

She let go of him, turning to look at the two—both wide-eyed at the recent turn of events. “Please, give the Republic our eternal gratitude.”

“…noted,” said Poe, his eyes still darting back and forth between Finn and the royal couple.

Tikva smiled, gently laying a hand on her wife’s shoulder. “If the Republic was able to give my son sanctuary after the First Order had taken him, then Verakhat must owe them our cooperation.”

“Indeed,” said Lyra icily (in the rush of reuniting with his family, Finn had almost forgot she was in the room). “I’m sure our senate has much to benefit from an alliance with the galactic senate.”

“But first,” said Aria, “I’m sure you’re all famished, and it _is_ time for dinner, so please, let’s sit down.”

“Aren’t we missing someone, Your Majesty?” asked Rose, looking across the table at the empty seat.

Aria sighed. “That’s right. I’m sorry, my daughter should be here soon—”

For the second time that day, the door opened.

“—or, right now.”

In shuffled a young woman around Rey’s age in a slightly rumpled blue dress and large, round glasses, with neat braids hanging loosely in front of her face. “Apologies for the delay,” she said in the same regal tone as her mother, “I was simply held up with a few—” She caught sight of Finn. Instantly, she stopped talking, her mouth held open. “Oh, _kriff,_ ” she whispered.

Any suspicions that he wasn’t a part of this family had instantly disappeared as soon as his sister entered the room. Princess Naami was almost a mirror image of him, with her rounded face, arched eyebrows, and full lips still silently swearing under her breath.

“Mother?” She turned to Tikva and Aria, though probably referencing the former. “Um, is this guy—”

“Yes,” said Aria (wrong mother?), who was closer to her daughter. “I believe it is time you are introduced to your brother.” She gestured to him. “This is your brother Moishe.”

“Just call me Finn,” he said, face starting to warm up. “I’m sorry, it just feels more natural.”

“Finn, then,” she said with a quick nod. “And Finn, this is your sister Naami.”

For a few seconds, all they could do was blankly stare at each other with varying degrees of confusion.

“Well, er,” said Naami, definitely _not_ in her regal voice as she awkwardly extended her hand, “it’s… it’s nice to meet you… Finn.”

“Nice to meet you too,” he said, taking it. “Is this too formal?”

“Probably,” she said. “I don’t know.” And then she wrapped her arms around him.

Giving her a quick pat on the back (which she reciprocated), they separated. “Shouldn’t you remember me?”

“I’m younger than you by three years, so probably not,” she said. “I mean, I know you exist, but I dunno, you’re kind of more like a myth than a human being.”

“Charmed,” he said. “So, um, dinner?”

“Dinner,” confirmed Aria, sitting back down. “The discussions can wait for tomorrow.”

The meal was an unsurprisingly pleasant one. The first course consisted of creamy hummus and fresh-baked flatbread, which Finn began to spread with hummus before Naami corrected him. “Appreciate the attempts at table manners, brother, but you gotta dip it.” The dishes that followed it were just as exquisite: spicy lamb and potatoes, warm rice with pine nuts, roasted cauliflower in garlic sauce, small fried pockets of ground beef.

“So, I was a myth,” said Finn, taking another sip of wine. “What, like Luke Skywalker?”

“Kind of,” said Naami, popping another piece of lamb into her mouth.

“Funny you say that, I’ve actually met Luke.”

“You’re _kidding._ ”

“I’m not, and trust me, he’s more human than you’d expect.” He helped himself to some more rice. “I’m actually close friends with his daughter.”

“ _Rey?”_ she stammered, nearly choking on her lamb. “Oh Force, you know Rey Skywalker.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, she’s engaged,” said Rose from the other side of the table.

“Wha— _excuse me?_ ” Naami’s cheeks darkened. “I’m not—you’re _lying,_ miss, I don’t _fancy_ her or anything—”

“Good,” she said, grinning. “Because it would make the whole engagement thing between us a bit weirder.”

Naami sputtered again.

“ _Children,_ ” said Tikva softly. Poe was busy laughing. Lyra was busy pointedly looking away.

With the last bits of dessert finished (soft rosewater pudding and candied oranges), it was time to head to their hotel. Finn thanked the queens—his mothers—one last time, before making to stand up.

“Wait,” said Tikva, holding up her hand. “We can have rooms arranged here for you.”

“But—”

“It’s alright,” she said, with that warm smile of hers. “I just—I’ve waited so long for you to return, I can hardly wait to be with you again, you understand?”

A lump rose in his throat. “I understand,” he said, desperately trying not to cry in front of the president he just met.

“Nox will lead you to your rooms,” she said, beckoning to the outside of the door where the same porter was probably waiting. “I’m sure you’ve had a long day.”

“Wait.” Rose wrinkled her brows. “Our luggage—”

“We’ll see to it that your belongings are safely moved to the palace,” she said. “I just—I cannot thank you enough for returning our dear son home.”

With a few polite farewells to Lyra and Zora and another (less awkward) hug with Naami, the three of them were escorted out of the dining room, and began to follow Nox again.

“This way,” he said as they followed him out of the room and through the wide hallways of the palace. It was beautiful, even in a simplistic sense, with sand-colored walls, arched windows, and no shortage of plants.

Honestly. They were everywhere—from the elaborate garden of the courtyard, to the potted flowers lining the floors, to the vines lazily climbing over the windows. It was so beautiful, so teeming with life, that he couldn’t help but whisper a soft “ _oh_ ” as they passed the balcony near the elegant stairwell with all its flowerpots and the tree branches gently peering over the railing.

Oh, he _definitely_ had to take Rey here on vacation sometime.

“Your luggage will be sent directly to your rooms,” said Nox, stopping at an elegant door. “Now, unless you are expecting anyone else, I believe three rooms should suffice?”

“Oh, _two_ rooms should be fine,” said Finn, clapping a hand onto Poe’s shoulder.

Nox blinked. “Very well,” he said. “You and Admiral Dameron can stay in the Prince’s Suite, and Captain Tico will have one of our guest rooms.” He opened the door. “May you enjoy your stay.”

The Red Iris suite in which Rose was to stay was quite lovely, with an ornate lamp hanging from the ceiling and a lavish bed—which she immediately flopped onto with a groan of satisfaction.

“I suppose we should let her rest,” whispered Nox, as the last rays of the evening sun illuminated the room in a warm glow. “Come, Your Highness, let me show you gentlemen your room.”

Thankfully, his room was only a hall away from where Rose would be staying. It was near the back, overlooking a small lake located in the palace’s private garden.

“We’ve kept this room in pristine condition,” said Nox, fiddling with the keycard ring. “Their Majesties held out hope that their son would returned, so it has been renovated to better suit the needs of a man, rather than an infant.” He chuckled as he swiped the right card over the scanner at the entrance, which emitted a soft _beep._ “Welcome home, Your Highness.”

Finn had to stop himself from muttering “Sweet Force” as the door swung open, revealing what was apparently his room.

Because if the guest room was impressive, the Prince’s suite was simply overwhelming. The L-shaped bedroom was maybe twice the size of the old Resistance control room, with a cluster of round, brass lanterns casting a warm glow upon the walls. The thin curtains in front of the balcony let in the last few beams of sunlight, and the sections of the wall that weren’t hidden by desks, wardrobes, or the immense canopy bed were covered in so many bookshelves.

“Wow,” he whispered, walking onto the soft, patterned carpet. Next to him, Nox winced.

He jerked back. “I’m sorry, did I—”

“It is customary to remove one’s shoes before entering a private room, Your Highness,” he explained, wringing his hands.

Oh. “Apologies,” he said, bending down to pull off his boots. “Poe, are you—”

“Is there a comm suite somewhere in here?” asked Poe, looking around the room. “We should probably let the chancellor know about our slight detour.”

“The suite is on the work desk,” said Nox, quickly unclipping a keycard from his ring and handing it to Finn. Probably the key to this very room.

“Thanks.” Poe ran to the desk (Finn noticed he already had his shoes off) and sat down, frantically pressing every button as he looked for the comm.

“Admiral—” Nox walked over as Poe accidentally opened what looked like a music composer. “Third one from the left below the lamp.”

Finn finally wriggled out of his boots as Nox bid a farewell, leaving the room, and Poe found the right button and opened the comm. A few seconds later, Leia’s face appeared in front of Poe’s with a bemused expression.

“Gentlemen.”

Poe smiled nervously. “Good evening, General—er, Chancellor,” he said, as Finn walked over to stand behind him. “Um, as you can see, we’ve had a… slight change of plans.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, the Verakhi government is totally willing to cooperate with the Republic, but—”

Leia rubbed her temples. “I’m going to need you to be more specific, Dameron,” she said.

“Well—”

“I’m their long-lost prince,” said Finn, leaning into frame. “We’re staying in the palace now.”

Silence.

Then, Leia shook her head, laughing. “Oh, Commanders. Only you two could get yourself into this kind of mess, huh?”

“Apparently,” said Poe, quickly darting a look at Finn.”

“At least this means you’ve definitely made a good first impression with them.” She kept rubbing her temples. “Finn, I want you to understand that prince or not, our mission has not changed one bit.”

Finn nodded, slightly relieved at how well she took the news. “Understood.”

She smiled. “Keep your head up, boys. I’m sure it will be alright.”

“Force willing.”

“Good luck.” With that, her image fizzled away as she signed off.

Finn sighed, looking to where Leia’s face had previously been. “So, I guess it’s official now.”

“No shit,” said Poe in awe. “You’re a kriffing _prince._ I mean, no pressure, though.”

He smiled weakly. “No pressure.”

There was a knock. “Your Highness.”

Finn blankly stared at the door until Poe elbowed him in the ribs. “That’s you, buddy.”

“Right.” Clearing his throat, he answered, “Come in!”

Nox opened the door. “Your parents are requesting your presence in the Galia sitting room.”

“I’ll be there,” he said, finding his shoes.

Poe clapped his shoulder. “Give ‘em hell.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Fair enough.”

Finn stood up, kissing Poe on the cheek. “I’ll be back.”

 

“I’m sure you have a few questions,” said Aria as he sat down.

“A few, yes,” said Finn, taking a sip of the coffee poured for them. It was surprisingly sweet, with hints of cinnamon and cardamom. “What exactly happened when I was kidnapped?”

His mother’s face fell.

“Unless you don’t want to—”

“No, it’s fine,” she said. “You deserve to know what happened to you.”

So, she started.

The day he was taken had started out as a day of celebration, she said. It had been the Verakhi New Year, the first day of fall when the harvest was made, and the royal family had been at a public celebration in its honor. Finn—or rather, Moishe—had been two years old, and was a cause of great pride and joy to his parents and his planet.

All too soon, though, the ceremony had been interrupted by unfamiliar shuttles crossing the sky and opening fire. The queen, fearing for the safety of both her son and unborn child, had entrusted him to her young then-bodyguard Lyra, who was unfortunately captured by the Order as they tried to flee. And while Deyarin had returned safely, albeit quite shaken by what she had undergone, there was no sign of the prince since that day.

“It was very hard on all of us,” said Tikva, holding onto her wife’s hand for support. “I felt like a failure for so long—how was I supposed to protect my planet if I couldn’t even protect my son?” She sniffed, gently wiping her eyes. “But we pulled through. Your sister was born—” Here she gently pat Naami’s shoulder “—and we dedicated these past years to protecting Verakhat as best as we could. Our only consolation was that maybe, the First Order didn’t kill you. Maybe you were still alive, somewhere.”

Aria smiled. “How fortunate we were to be so correct.”

Finn reached out to briefly hold his mother’s hand. “I’m glad you were right, too.”

She smiled warmly through her tears.

“But, I just want to make sure that this isn’t changing our original plans, right?” he asked, leaning back. “Just because I’m the prince doesn’t mean we’re not still negotiating an alliance.”

“Of course not,” she said. “It might even help these discussions. If the Republic could save you—or rather, take you in after you escaped—then I have a feeling it is an entity that Verakhat would be delighted to be allied with.”

“We still plan on meeting after breakfast tomorrow,” said Aria, folding her hands around her cup of coffee. “The president will join us for dinner once more, and we will continue these negotiations. All this means that we’ll also find some time to teach you about politics and etiquette and the like.”

“Understood.” He took another sip of sweet coffee. “Also, this might sound silly, but, um, what should I call you two?”

“A question I ask myself every day,” said Naami. “I usually just call Tikva Mother and Aria Ima.”

“Ima?”

“It’s our word in Verakhi for mother,” explained Aria—his ima. “It’s not used as frequently anymore, but it is quite a lovely language.”

“Got it, mom—Ima,” he said, then turned to Naami. “By the way…”

“Hmm?”

“Before I came back, you were the crown princess, right?” She nodded. “So, now that I’m here, what does that mean? Would it be rude if I just, you know, took your position as the heir?”

“Can I be honest with you?” she said. “I never really wanted to be queen.” She leaned back. “Too many expectations when you’re in charge of four billion people, right? So, I don’t really care that you’re taking my job.” She grinned. “It’s kind of a relief, actually.”

“Alright, just wanted to check.” Finn set his empty cup down, closing his eyes. _Four billion people. Crown prince. You’re in charge._ It all seemed so overwhelming. And yet… he felt prepared, as if he knew his whole life would come to this. Maybe he really _was_ destined to rule, after all.

“Besides, it’s not like I’m completely missing my chance,” she continued. “There’s still the chance that something might happen to you—with, Force willing, will never happen—so Isaac and I still need to be prepared to take over your duties.”

“Isaac?”

“Right.” Naami picked up her cup again. “Unfortunately, I’m not the only sibling you have to put up with.” She took a sip. “Isaac’s about, say, seven years younger than you? He’s off on a trip in Naboo, but he should be back soon.”

“I have a brother.”

“And a large family,” said his mother, “who’s absolutely dying to meet you.”

An entire family. Finn’s heart clenched at that phrase—he had a family beyond the Resistance, one who loved him and missed him and that he’d probably meet very soon.

“In that case,” he said, “I have just a few more questions.”

 

Poe was already getting ready for bed when Finn came back to their room.

“Our stuff’s here,” he said, gesturing to the suitcases neatly piled at the foot of the bed, Poe’s already swung open. “They weren’t kidding about efficiency.”

“Neat.” Peeling off his shoes, Finn walked over to where Poe was standing and wrapped his arms around his waist from behind. “I guess the queen—my _mom_ just wanted to talk to me about my history and a little more about this place.” Poe hummed. “You know a lot of rebel fighters came from Verakhat?”

“Thought they were a neutral planet,” said Poe, shimmying into his arms.

“Didn’t stop the citizens from running off,” he said. “Only the government had to stay neutral.”

“Anyone we’d know?”

“Couple of pathfinders, most of gold squadron… Shara Bey.”

“You’re kidding.” Poe turned around in his arms, eyes wide with wonder. “You’re telling me that…”

Finn nodded, gently stroking his cheek. “She was already a respected pilot when she left to fight for the Rebellion,” he said. “Apparently, she’s remembered as a hero.”

Poe smiled. “It’s just… it’s amazing to know I’ve got a connection to here, too. To _you._ ”

Finn leaned their foreheads together. “Poe, you’ll always be dear to me even if you weren’t from here.”

And what a gift—to find himself in such a new situation, a new life, with his love by his side.

He kissed Poe, slowly and achingly sweet. Poe hummed against him, holding him closer and drawing his arm down the front of his shirt, until he remembered— “The blinds,” he whispered against Finn’s mouth. “Shit, we should probably close those.”

Part of Finn was too preoccupied with trying to get them to the bed, but another part realized that it might not have been the greatest idea to make their affection _too_ public. “Point,” he said, watching as Poe close the curtains across the balcony.

“Now, where were we?” With a grin, Poe tackled Finn onto the soft bed. Finn laughed as he peppered kisses along his neck.

Prince or no prince, he was still smitten.

 

Finn woke up to a gentle knocking on the door.

Yawning, he made sure he had pants on before opening it.

It was, of course, Nox. “Breakfast is ready, Your Highness.”

“Alright, thank you,” he said, walking back to the bed and gently shaking Poe’s shoulder. “Hear that?” Let’s go.”

“Don’t wanna,” he muttered, sinking his face into the pillow.

“ _Poe._ ”

“‘s too early, buddy.”

Usually, Finn would have rolled his eyes and pulled back the sheets. However, Poe was probably still naked, and there _was_ still the threat of Nox walking back in, so he just threw a pair of pants in his face. “You’re having breakfast with your future in-laws, make sure you’re decent.”

“Who said they were my in-laws yet?” grumbled Poe. Finn grinned, continuing to get dressed.

By the time they got downstairs to the small dining room, Rose and Naami were deep in conversation about the Force.

“I actually have a lightsaber, you know,” his sister was saying, twirling a braid around her finger. “It’s probably not as nice as your Jedi’s, but I _did_ make one.”

“I didn’t know there were still Jedi on this planet,” said Rose, leaning forward.

“Oh, not Jedi, but Force sensitivity is still a strong tradition of ours, so—Finn! Hi!”

“Good morning,” he said, rubbing his eyes as he sat down at the table, already loaded with fresh pastries and salad.

“And one of light,” she brightly responded. Finn figured this must be a traditional response. “Enjoying this place so far?”

“I suppose,” he said, reaching for a flaky crescent roll filled with chocolate. “So, what’s this you said about Force sensitivity?”

“Oh, the Force is super important over here,” she said, pouring herself some more coffee. “And because we never had the Empire breathing over our necks trying to wipe out any Jedi they saw, it managed to survive.”

“Including with you?”

“That’s right,” she said. “Force sensitivity sort of runs in our family, you know.”

Another fact, linking him closer to this planet. “And you said you have a lightsaber, right?”

“Yep.” She took a bite of pastry. “Made it for my sixteenth birthday—I’d love to show you guys sometime.”

“You guys should totally go up against each other,” said Rose with a grin. “That would be cool.”

Naami snorted.

Finn mock stared her down. “Oh, we’re doing this.”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” she said, smiling wickedly. “The back gardens.”

“It’s on.”

Breakfast had peacefully passed for another few minutes when the door opened again. Everyone turned their heads, probably expecting Nox again.

Whom Finn _wasn’t_ expecting, though, was a young man with an eerie resemblance to him in a fine tunic to walk through the doors. “I’m back,” he said, then paused. “Hold on.”

“Ma and Ima already ate,” said Naami through a bite of salad. “Republic delegates are here, though, and, um…”

“Yeah, I got Mum’s message,” he said, walking up to Finn. “Holy kriffing shit, it _is_ him.”

Finn looked at the kid. Sure, he might have had his mother’s rounder eyes and his ima’s narrower jawline, but it was almost like looking into a distorted mirror, or at some alternate version of himself. No doubt, this was his brother Isaac.

“Hey,” he said, trying his best at a warm smile. “Nice to, um, see you.”

Isaac nodded. “Yeah, hi,” he said, eyes widening. “So, um, you’re Moishe?”

“Finn, actually,” he said. “I sort of… rebranded after being kidnapped, I guess?”

“Yeah, ok. You’re still my brother though, right?”

Finn shrugged. “I certainly hope so—”

“You have a brother,” said Poe, jaw hanging open.

“I… yeah,” said Finn. “Sorry, sort of forgot to mention that last night.”

“Forget brother,” said Naami. “This guy’s got himself four cousins and five second cousins on the royal side alone.”

“ _Excuse_ me?”

Rose snorted. “Hell of a family you got going on there.”

Isaac nodded again, sitting down next to Finn. “Sorry if I’m not saying much—still a bit ship lagged.”

“No problem,” said Finn, still working through the math in his head. One brother, one sister, nine cousins on only his mother’s side (Force knew how many were on Aria’s side of the equation). Kriffing hell, he really _did_ have a family.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for all these people,” he said.

Poe chuckled, patting him on the back. “You’ll make it, buddy. You always do.”

 

“Guess it’s time for a quick political crash course,” said Naami, sitting down on the couch.

Finn sat across from her and Tikva, while a silvery droid poured them mint tea.

“For starters, the official Head of State is, obviously, the monarch,” she continued, hands neatly folded in her lap as she tried to exude an air of officiality. “That would be our mother, and, eventually, you. You’ve got a pretty basic job—approving or rejecting laws, enacting orders, overseeing the military, negotiating with foreign powers, and basically representing your people as best as you can.”

“Sounds basic enough,” he said, taking a sip of tea.

“Thankfully, you won’t be alone in ruling,” added his mother. “You’ll have the democratic government at your side to help with the little details.”

“And I’m assuming President Lyra is the head of that?”

“Precisely,” she said. “The president oversees the cabinet—”

“—those guys do most of the finnicky work, you know—the Secretaries of State, or Education, or Agriculture, and all that,” added Naami.

“She’s also the first to approve or veto any legislation passed by the Senate—which, of course, you’ll have the power to potentially overrule,” she added, smiling. “Unlike the Monarch, they’re elected for five-year terms, and they have a two-term limit imposed on them.”

Finn took another sip of tea. “And if the president dies, who takes their place?”

Tikva folded her hands. “Usually it’s the vice president—”

“Who doesn’t really have a job outside of waiting for the president to die, honestly—”

“—but in some cases, it might be someone from their cabinet,” she finished, clearly trying not to look too approving of her daughter’s snarky comment.

“The senate’s got two houses, by the way,” said Naami. “An upper and a lower one. Both are proportional to the population of their district—there’s about one for every million people, so that’s about four thousand senators per house, or… eight thousand senators total, I guess.”

Finn whistled. “Seems like it could get kinda wild sometimes.”

“Oh, it definitely does,” she said with a grin. “Probably can’t be any worse than the Galactic Senate, though.”

Finn thought back to the first official meeting right after the end of the war. “Oh, I’m sure it can’t be any worse.”

Naami nodded. “Well, um, that should be the basics, right?”

“Yes,” said their mother, smoothing out her delicate skirt (pale blue and shiny today). “Now, if you’ll excuse us, darling, I believe some political discussions are in order.”

“Which I probably won’t be attending,” said Naami, straightening her glasses. “I mean, kinda got a vested interest in my brother here, but, well, not the heir anymore, so—” She shrugged. “—guess I’ll see you later.”

With a final flourish, she walked out, leaving Tikva and Finn to head to one of the cabinets to discuss the royal couple’s vision for cooperation with the Republic.

Rose and Poe were already waiting for them, having been led to the room by Nox. Aria shortly joined them, and soon, they were all seated around the round table, ready for the first stage of planning.

“So first off, what are your own thoughts on the Republic?” asked Poe, looking at Tikva. “You’ve been more isolationist in the past, after all.”

“Only out of obligation,” she said. “I’ve always felt that some sort of loose alliance could benefit Verakhat, but I couldn’t come forward with that in my early days of ruling.” She sighed. “My father was a wise man, and I did agree with him on certain issues; however, this was not one of them. Verakhat can remain her own entity while still benefiting from the aid of others.”

“All about balance, right?” said Finn.

She smiled. “Precisely.” Poe jotted down a few notes. “My main concern with membership in the Republic would, of course, be a potential loss of identity or power if such an entity would be too centralized.”

“Yeah, the Senate’s still a bit split on that issue,” said Rose, “but the general opinion so far is more power to the planets. At least, that’s what Chancellor Organa’s opinions are.”

“That’s a woman we can cooperate with,” said Aria. “I have no doubts she’s a strong leader.”

“I’ll make sure to pass that on to her, then,” said Poe with a smile, writing down a few more notes. “Alright, so do we have your word on supporting Verakhat’s membership within the Republic?”

“That you do,” said Tikva. “Thank you so much for your time. This meeting is concluded.”

Thanking the queens, Poe and Rose stood up and left the cabinet. Finn started to get up to follow them, but Tikva rested a hand on his shoulder, holding him in place.

“Just a moment, Finn,” she said. “There’s something we need to take care of.”

 

The doctor at the testing site was an old Twi’lek with wrinkles around her eyes and a warm smile.

“You must be Finn,” she said as he sat down. “I’m Mala. Pleasure to meet you.”

Finn cocked his head. Not that he wasn’t used to being referred to by his name, but hearing a local say it…

“I understand,” said Mala, almost as if she read his mind. “See, right now you’re not the prince, you’re just a patient. I’m the one in charge here right now.” She pushed up his sleeve and tied a tourniquet around it. “Could you do me a favor and pump your fist a few times?”

Finn obeyed immediately, squeezing his fist. Blood draws were a routine occurrence back in the Order—he already had all the steps memorized. Thankfully, Mala was a bit kinder than the med droids back on the _Finalizer._

“Perfect,” she said, feeling around the crook of his elbow for a vein. “Alright, so all I’m going to do is draw a little bit of blood from you. We already have the prince’s DNA recorded, so all we’re looking for is a match.” Satisfied, she quickly rubbed a disinfectant pad over the site. “Shouldn’t take us too long.”

With that, she inserted the needle, Finn staying steady all the while. Within a few seconds, she had drawn out a vial of blood, and quickly placed a small bacta patch over the area where she had poked him. “There we go. We’ll call you back in once we have the results.”

Pulling his shirt sleeve back up, Finn thanked Mala and walked back into the lobby, sitting down next to Tikva. “We’ll find out soon enough,” he said, gently taking her hand.

“I’m sure it will be what we expected,” she said, giving it a light squeeze. “You already spoke to me through the Force when I first saw you—this is just confirmation.”

He nodded. Still, he couldn’t help but feel tense as the minutes pass. What if Tikva was wrong, and the results didn’t match? How would he feel, believing he had a family, a home, a place to belong, and having it ripped out of his hands at the last minute?

“Finn?” A young nurse stuck her head out of the door. “They’re ready for you.”

Legs shaking, Finn kept holding onto Tikva’s hand as they walked back into the lab, where Mala was poring over a datapad.

Once she looked up, though, there was no doubt what her answer was. There was no need to read what the data was, not when her eyes crinkled with the force of her smile, her hand over her heart.

“Welcome, Your Highness,” she said. “It’s good to see you back.”

Finn turned to his mother, who was smiling.

“I told you,” she said warmly, before embracing him. “Now, shall we go? I believe there’s an entire family waiting to meet you.”

 

True to his mother’s word, there was a veritable sea of people waiting for him in the sitting room when they returned to the palace.

Naturally, he recognized his siblings; Isaac was pored over a plate of food, in the middle of dozing off, while Naami was deep in conversation with a bright-eyed freckled girl about her age. When she caught eye of Finn, she immediately waved him over.

“Dafné, this is my brother,” she said, gesturing to Finn. “Finn, this is our cousin.”

“Pleased to meet you,” he said, reaching out to shake Dafné’s hand. Instead, he found himself enveloped in a tight hug. “Oh.”

“So glad you’re ok,” she said, patting his back. “It’s good to finally see you.”

“Uh huh.”

Dafné eventually released him, eyes still shining. “Come on, my parents are dying to meet you!” Without warning, she grabbed his hand and steered him towards the direction of a couple in deep conversation. “Aba, Ima, look, it’s Finn, it’s the Prince!”

They immediately stopped talking, and turned to him with warm faces. And, once again, Finn was greeted to another hug from the both of them—though this time, they offered it, and he took it.

“So, you’re my uncle?” he asked the man, who did bear a much stronger resemblance to his mother than his paler wife.

“That’s right,” he said fondly. “I’m Aaron, and this is Minerva.”

“Finn, darling!” called someone else from the far side of the room. It was another woman, in a colorful scarf piled high atop her head. “I’m your aunt Dania, so good to meet you.”

From there, he met her wife and kids, who were all young. Karen was a little younger than Isaac, with a strong face and a firm handshake, while her brothers Amit and Bar were both sixteen and clearly more interested in the teacakes and honeyed pastries than their long-lost cousin. And, just as Naami promised, there were the second cousins; Bina was older than him by ten years and already had a young daughter (her brother was a little closer to him in age), Iliana and Madi were young and clung to their mother at every opportunity, and little Yann was only a few months old, with red curls and a sweet laugh. All in all, Finn felt like there were definitely worse people to have as cousins—all of them were at the very least polite, and if he didn’t feel a full familial connection with them, at least they could hold a decent conversation.

Of course, the real guest of honor was not merely his handfuls of cousins, but his grandmother, the Queen Dowager Tamara herself, who arrived fashionably late in a stiff dress of iridescent violet.

“Finn, _mami,_ ” she said, in an ancient yet sturdy voice as she hobbled into the room, “let me see you.” Gingerly walking up to him, she gently took his face in her hands. “Force above,” she cried, eyes beginning to swim with tears, “you look just like your grandfather.” Finn bit his lips. “Oh, I never thought I’d live to see this day.”

There were no words he could find—and truly, none that needed expressing. Instead, he merely held her tight, resting his chin on her delicate shoulder, praying she could feel everything.

“Welcome home,” she whispered, holding him closer. “My darling, welcome home.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The planet finally learns of their prince's return.

“So, how was the family?” asked Poe later in their quarters.

“Large,” said Finn, flopping down onto the bed (he still wasn’t used to how soft or delicately embroidered it was—there was no such thing either in the Order or the Resistance). “Kind of hard to keep track of everyone.”

“You and me both,” said Poe, scooting up to lay next to him, and Finn couldn’t help but crack a grin as he remembered the last time he went to a Dameron family reunion. “Were any of them genocidal maniacs?”

“Force, _no_ ,” said Finn. “That’s Rey’s problem, not mine.”

“Point. Any jackasses, though?”

Finn poked him in the side. “They’re royalty, I can’t just go around slandering their name,” he said. “That said, not really, they’re all chill.”

“That’s always good.” He leaned in closer to Finn, resting his hand on his stomach. “Always good to have a chill family.”

“I’m an uncle, apparently.”

“Wait, _seriously?_ ”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Ok, technically I’m a second cousin once removed, but you get what I mean. There’s a bunch of little kids who look up to me.” He hummed. “It’s wild.”

“I bet.” Poe began to absentmindedly trace patterns on the front of his shirt. “Though I’m assuming you’re a bit short on the grandparent department, right?”

“Not really,” he said, slinging an arm behind his head. “Grandma’s still alive, she just got demoted to Queen Dowager after my grandpa died, since she wasn’t the original ruler.”

Poe smirked. “Force, look at you, talking about queen dowagers like it’s no big deal.”

“It really isn’t, though?” he said. “I mean, I’m still Finn, regardless of how royal my family is.”

“Still, who else could you say talks about nobility like that?” Getting up, he stretched his arms. “Pretty much no one.”

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I dunno, I guess I’m just kind of antsy.” He began to tug on his boots. “Like, the palace is gorgeous, but I can’t just land on a planet and not see the rest of it. Kriff, we haven’t even really properly seen the _city._ ”

“We’re here on business, not sightseeing.”

“You’re telling me you don’t have _any_ desire of exploring your home planet?” Shaking his head, Poe tossed Finn’s boots in his direction, which merely bounced off of the bedframe and landed in a disorganized pile on the carpet. “Come on, you’ve got to have _some_ kind of pride, buddy.”

And that’s how they found themselves strolling hand-in-hand through the streets of Ir Drisha that afternoon.

The queens hadn’t yet revealed the news about their son, which meant that for the time being, Finn could travel relatively incognito. Sure, he was still nodded at appreciatively or scorned at for being The Republic Commander Who Escaped The First Order, but that was all; for now, no one needed to know that he was the prince.

And really, he liked it that way.

There were all sorts of pleasant markets lining the city that they, as tourists/displaced natives, had to stop by; Poe spent a fair amount of time admiring the delicate metalwork of a jeweler, Finn had to restrain himself from buying armfuls of multi-colored gummy candies and sour strips from the sweet shop (he _did_ eventually cave in and buy a box of baklava), and both of them heartily enjoyed the brisk walk through the aromatic stalls lined with large bins full of colorful spices. Finn bought a little potted cactus in a cheerful enamel pot for Rey, and they ended up stopping by the vendor selling sweet frozen fruit juice; Finn settled for the popular local flavor of lemon and spearmint, Poe stuck with meiloorun juice.

At the end of the elegant square was a kiosk stocked with holonovels and journals. Figuring he probably had a little bit of catching up to do, Finn spent a few more credits on a compendium of Verakhi architecture, while Poe grabbed a newspaper and asked the vendor how much it cost.

The old man shook his head. “News has always been free. You from out of orbit, huh?”

“Unfortunately,” said Poe, taking another small sip of juice.

The vendor hummed, before looking at Finn and nodding with—was that a knowing smile? “You two take care, now.”

“You think he knows me?” asked Finn as they walked back to the palace, tucking the book under his arm (he could afford to read it a bit later). “He just seemed to recognize me, or something.”

“Maybe he’s just a fan of Galactic politics,” said Poe, unfolding the newspaper (it was genuine paper—cream-colored and with a faint scent of ink). “Oh, look, the front page mentions you.”

“ _What?_ ” Craning his neck, Finn looked over at the headline Poe was pointing at.

 

**_PRESIDENT DEYARIN SPILLS ALL ABOUT THE CROWN PRINCE_ **

_For years, the mystery of what happened to the beloved Prince Moishe has remained unsolved, but last week, the Drisha Chronicle scored an exclusive interview with the president, who was allegedly present at the time of His Highness’s disappearance._

_The twenty-nine year-old Deyarin was then a security guard for the royal family around the New Year, when the attacks took place. “I had a duty to serve the Queens,” she explained, “and, by extension, their son—so I reckoned that I had to keep him away from Their Majesties while they got to safety in order to maximize everyone’s survival.”_

_However, she was soon discovered. “I was foolish to believe I could outrun the enemy,” she told the Chronicle. She and the prince were roughly grabbed by a pair of Stormtroopers—a bogeyman many believed eliminated. “It was not the Empire, but a group of fanatics wishing to follow them.”_

_Deyarin was taken prisoner aboard their transport ship. As for the fate of the prince, she was not initially certain, as they were immediately separated, but she did recall hearing the phrase “…FN-2187” as she was passed by._

 

“Oh, _no._ ”

 

_“I realized, they were naming him,” she said. “It was a designation—they were planning on raising His Highness for some nefarious purpose.”_

_It would later be learnt that such designations were commonly assigned to those under the Order’s Stormtrooper program, which was mainly staffed by kidnapped children such as Moishe. Only a handful have been known to break out, and those who have remain traumatized to this day by their experiences. The Galactic Refugee Alliance has offered respite to several escapees, yet denied any memory of one resembling His Highness…_

“Buddy, you alright?”

Finn dizzily nodded, cool lemon juice not doing much to dispel his anxiety. “I’m just worried.”

“What do you mean?” said Poe. “It’s just a little more information about what happened, right?”

“Not really,” said Finn. “It’s a reveal.”

Poe cocked his head.

“See, I’m sure that even on an isolationist planet, the people here have at least some understanding of who we are,” continued Finn as they walked back to the palace, him trying desperately to pick up the pace. “Like, they probably recognize you as the guy who followed his parents’ footsteps, and me as the former stormtrooper-turned-commander, at the very least. And this—” He once again gestured to the article. “This flat-out states that the prince was raised as a stormtrooper.”

“That can’t be enough information,” said Poe, gently grabbing his shoulder in an attempt to slow them down.

Finn shrugged it off and quickened the pace. “Maybe not, but that’s not the only thing they have to work with. Somewhere they’ve got to have seen the Queen and I together—here!” He pointed to a different spot in the newspaper, a photo of them earlier at the negotiating table. “Surely someone’s noticed that we look a bit similar—and with everything else, well, they’re smart around here, they’ll put two and two together.” He rubbed his temples. “I’ll give it until tomorrow morning before they find out everything.”

Poe patted his shoulder once again—reassuringly this time. “Hope it won’t be all that bad when they do find out.”

 

“I’m glad we could all be here again tonight,” said Tikva, taking her place at the head of the table.

Finn took his seat beside her. The cabinet was a pleasant room, with embroidered curtains and detailed sculptures, but there was hardly any time to take it in—not when the president was sitting across from him with that same ice-cold expression as always.

“Shall we start?” he said, tugging at his shirt collar (a more royal outfit borrowed from Isaac, who was a little more on the thin side; moving his arms was gonna be hell).

“Of course.” Tikva began to leaf through the stack of documents in front of her. “So, the first item of business is formally declaring the end of Verakhat’s neutrality.”

“A difficult ordeal,” said Lyra. “I doubt the public would be open to the end of a millennia-long tradition.”

“Maybe tradition isn’t everything—” said Poe.

She turned her gaze to him. “I would recommend,” she said, in a steely voice, “that you keep your outsider opinion out of this.”

“But I’m—”

“He’s right, though,” said Finn, as Poe continued to furrow his brows. “You can’t hold on to the past forever, Madam.”

“Besides,” added Zora, “there’s reason to believe that public has changed.” She took a quick sip of tea. “What with all the refugees returning home to Verakhat, perhaps many citizens are taking sides now.”

“Refugees?”

Zora smiled. “Escapees of the First Order,” she said. “Tests have revealed that many of them were stolen from our own planet as children.”

“So there’s a chance people will disagree with the Order and take the side of the Republic,” he said, eyes wide with realization. “They’ll favor us.”

“I certainly hope so, Your Highness.”

Lyra sighed—a short, irritated one. “Perhaps you’re right, Gilean,” she said.

“So, is that an affirmative on siding with the Republic?” asked Rose, hand hovering uncertainly above the datapad.

The queens turned to look at Lyra, who shrugged. “Alright.”

“Affirmative,” concluded Tikva. “From this moment on, Verakhat shall be neutral no longer, and side with the New Republic on its mission to bring stability and justice to the galaxy.”

Nodding, Rose typed out her statement. “Fantastic.”

Finn looked at Lyra. “Madam President, are you sure that—”

“I’m sure enough,” she said with a smile that did nothing to dismiss the sour feeling still lingering in his gut.

 Tikva waved her hand, thumbing to the next page. “All right. With that, the next item is any potential membership within the New Republic and her Senate.”

“Not sure about that,” said Lyra (of course).

Tikva tilted her head.

“Alliances aside,” said Lyra, “haven’t we always prided ourselves on not relying on others? Surely, wouldn’t a position within the Republic diminish our status as a planet, reduce us to just another voting member?”

Poe raised his hand. “Madam President, if I may—”

She sighed. “You may, Admiral,” she said, her jaw tight.

“Well,” he said, “I mean, there’s no guarantees, but with the current leadership, it’s likely that Verakhat won’t be losing status any time soon.” He rubbed his head. “I mean, look at Naboo, or Socorro, or Corellia. They’re still relevant as their own planets, even with seats in the Senate.”

Zora nodded.

“Even so, it would be unbalanced to live without a voice in galactic politics,” said Finn, leaning forward. “If we wish to shape the Galaxy and rid it of corruption, perhaps a small sacrifice is necessary.”

“Perhaps,” said Lyra, sighing again. “Well, if His Highness supposes it is a good idea, what’s to stop Verakhat?” Something uneasy tugged again at Finn’s stomach. “I give my consent to join the Republic.”

“We’ll put it up for a vote in the Senate, then,” said Tikva. “We should find out how the people vote first before we make any drastic changes.”

Rose tapped down a few more sentences. “Very well.”

Tikva stood up, gracefully pushing her chair back in. “That concludes this meeting, I believe,” she said. “Madam President, Madam Secretary, thank you once more for joining us.”

“The pleasure is ours,” said Zora warmly, while Lyra nodded and turned to Finn.

“This went well,” she said, the sharp edge in her voice barely concealed by sickly sweetness. “Good night, Your Highness.

Finn still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off with the president, but what was there to do? “Good night.”

Finn and Poe were trying to rest a little after dinner when there came a knock at their door.

“Yeah?” said Finn. It couldn’t have been Nox again—the knock had sounded too energetic for him.

And, sure enough, it was Rose who opened the door, clearly trying to reign in her excitement. “There’s an ice cream shop literally across the street,” she said, hands flapping with excitement. “Guys, we’ve _got_ to go there.”

“Now?”

“ _Now._ ”

Finn nodded, walking over to pull on his shoes. He knew it would probably be a bad idea to eat again so soon after dinner, but it really was quite some time since he had ice cream—see, he was a little more focused on rebuilding the Republic and chasing down splinter groups rather than indulge in sweet treats.

So, it was with a fair amount of excitement that the three of them head down to the little ice cream shop, stocked with rows of colorful bins.

After taking turns indulging in every sample that they could (Poe finally tried the spearmint-lemon sorbet—and he was clearly a fan, if his moan of appreciation meant anything), they finally walked away from the counter with their purchases (two whole scoops for Finn—he was really treating himself tonight). They sat down, tried each other’s flavors, joked around; it was a nice feeling to have in the middle of political chaos.

And then, the chaos found them anyway.

“Excuse me?” said a young voice behind them. Finn whipped his head around to see a youth with wide eyes, staring right at Finn. “Are you really the Prince?”

Finn froze. Surely, the wiser option would have been to lie—even though that would definitely crush his heart, and probably make him hate Finn even more once the truth is revealed. Alternatively, he could have simply been ambivalent with a shrug and a “maybe, I don’t know,” but Finn knew that apathy wasn’t exactly an admirable trait in a future world leader.

So, he made what was probably a mistake.

“Yes,” he said, leaning forward. “That’s me.”

“Wow.” The kid’s face broke out into a wide, hopeful smile, before turning to the crowd behind them. “Everyone, look! It’s the Prince!”

Immediately, everyone began to congregate around Finn, loudly asking him questions all at once and/or crying with joy—until, that is, the shopkeeper kicked them out to the street (“Not in _my_ store, you’re not”), and they had to pause for a few moments before starting up again.

“How long have you known?”

“How has the Princess fared?”

“Is this just Republic propaganda?”

Finn struggled through all their questions—there was no way he could answer them all tonight. “It’s kind of a recent development,” he shouted over the din of everyone else. “We only confirmed it this morning—” A squabble of people began to debate that claim. “I’ve got proof, I swear!”

“All right, back it up,” yelled Rose, waving her three-tiered ice cream cone like a baton. “This isn’t a press conference, no more questions for His Highness.”

“If I may.”

A young woman raises her hand, firmly grasping her press badge. “Just one question for the Prince, please.”

Rose frowned, and looked at Finn—who nodded. “Let her.”

She motioned her cone-holding hand again to her. “Come on.”

The reporter stepped forward. “If I may, could I just ask you on the validity of the President’s claims about you?”

Finn closed his eyes.

“It’s true,” he said, looking at her as his hands violently shook. “I was really a Stormtrooper for most of my life.”

The crowd was silent for a good portion of time. Finn kept looking ahead, steeling his jaw for the inevitable disappointment that their beloved prince was a soldier for a violent junta.

And then—

“So, was the First Order really that cruel?”

“How did you escape?”

“I can’t believe I’m not the only trooper from Verakhat!”

Rose rolled her eyes, grabbing Finn’s arm with her free hand and pulling them away. “The nerve of these people.”

“At least they like me,” he said, heart beating wildly in his chest as he smiled.

 

“You would not believe what just happened.”

Rey smiled, her projection shimmering a delicate blue as Finn talked to her. “I don't know if you know this already, but Rey, I'm apparently their prince?”

“I know,” she said. “Leia told me already.” She smiled brightly. “Finn, I'm so happy for you.”

“Thank you,” he said, heart feeling light; it was always comforting to see her. “I mean, I don't just have a family here, I've got the entire planet waiting for my return.” He sighed. “It's kind of a miracle.”

“Definitely,” she said, stretching her arms; Finn caught a glimpse of her right hand, pale and mechanical. “Well, you've got to tell me when your coronation is.”

Finn frowned. “I'm actually not really sure.”

“Alright.” Rey shrugged. “I'll just show up tomorrow.”

“That soon?”

She smiled again, eyes soft. “Finn, you’re my best friend, of _course_ I’ll be there.”

“Even with the Order?”

She waved her hand. “Eh, no big deal. I already have Malia taking over your duties, I’m sure she can handle mine.”

His heart melted. Even after an entire war, countless revelations, too many fights to count—the softness still hadn’t been scrubbed away from Rey. Dimly, he wondered how much luck they had to have in order to find each other.

Rey looked to her side. “Damn, looks like the kids are begging for their evening stories,” she said. “Gotta go.”

“May the Force be with you,” he said with a wave. She grinned, scrunching up her nose as she signed off.

And then, there was a knock at the door.

Sighing, Finn opened it to find Nox—and the lady guard from yesterday, staff slung across her back.

“Come,” said Nox, gesturing down the hall. “There are some individuals who wish to speak to you.”

Finn wasn’t sure what to make of this vagueness; regardless, he had a trustworthy servant and an armed guard by his side, so it probably wouldn’t be too serious—maybe just another distant cousin on his Ima’s side wishing to see his face.

Oh, was he mistaken.

Instead of some cozy sitting room, Finn found himself directed to the press hall—and in it, several photographers and journalists were eagerly waiting, snapping photos at light speed and furiously taking notes.

“Your Highness,” said Nox, gently nudging Finn towards the podium, “I believe you have some questions to answer.”

Finn looked around the room, heart rate climbing. In every corner were eager faces, wide eyes, half-concealed smiles. Anticipation. Excitement. Hope.

He gripped the edge of the podium as the first questions began to pour forward.

He could do this.

 

**_HOPE REKINDLED: THE CROWN PRINCE RETURNS_ **

Finn lazily scanned the paper over breakfast the next morning. “That was quick.”

“Eh, the press can never wait to release information they have,” said Naami, taking a sip of caf. “Go on, what does it say?”

“Nothing too strange,” he said, looking over the article. “It just talks about everything that’s happened so far, praises my accomplishments for the Resistance, mentions how I’m—oh, for kriff’s sake.”

“What?”

He rolls his eyes. “It just _has_ to mention that I’m not married.”

Beside him, Poe coughed.

Finn shook his head, patting his shoulder. “Hey, it said I’m unmarried, not _single._ ”

“Might as well be the same thing to them,” said Poe, looking down at his breakfast.

He pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Doubt it,” he said, though he couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

The rest of the morning was pretty much spent on being measured for his new wardrobe. The tailor—a short woman with bright red hair named Ruti—had taken her sweet time threading her measuring tape around every part of his body and jotting down notes. “Coronation’s coming up,” she said, looping the tape around his bicep, by now starting to ache from being held up for so long, “and we just want you to look absolutely dashing, right?”

“Right,” he said, as she straightened his arm and began to measure his wrist.

Ruti hummed, wrote down a few final notes, and nodded. “That should be it,” she said. Finn gratefully relaxed his arm. “Now, about colors.”

“Wouldn’t you be the best person to decide that?” he asked, rubbing his shoulder and walking over to the large binder of swatches she had laid out on the table.

She shrugged. “Sort of. I just feel like you should wear a color that you like, and then I can coordinate the rest of the outfits around that.”

Finn began leafing through the binder, leafing through the five pages solely dedicated to shades of black. “All about balance, right?”

“I suppose,” she said, looking over his shoulder. “Hmm, I could see you in a nice cool white.”

“Pass,” he said, skipping over the rest of the whites. “Doesn’t really suit me.”

Brown seemed too dull a color for such an occasion, red too violent, orange too gaudy. Finn paused at the yellows, getting a slight tingle in his right hand.

Flipping to some page near the end, where the colors began to cool down, he found what he was looking for: a silky swatch, dyed a deep, royal purple.

He gently lay a finger on the panel. “That one.”

Ruti looked at it, and nodded. “Solid choice,” she said, pulling the square fabric out and sticking it between the pages of her notepad. “Purple really suits you.”

 

It was just before lunch that Finn showed up at the garden.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” said Naami with a grin. Her simple dress had been swapped out for a pair of billowing pants and a sleeveless tunic, braids tied up in a bun. “Didn’t know if the tailor would ever let you go.”

“She did, eventually,” he said, pulling out his saber. “Say, um, is there something here I can scorch, or—”

Naami pointed to a stump at his feet.

“Cool.” Turning the lightsaber on, he took a few swings at it while dialing down the power until the golden blade barely left a mark upon the wood—he wanted to fence with his sister, not mortally wound her (that would be reserved for other families). “You ready?”

She ignited her own saber—a stunning blue. “Whenever you are.”

Grinning wildly, he tightened his grip and swung at her.

Verakhat must have had a different system of combat, he thought as they parried. While he stayed more grounded with broader swings, Naami moved quickly back and forth, parrying him as if it were a high-energy dance. At one point, she deflected him with an actual _twirl,_ swinging her blade around her like it weighed nothing.

The little dance soon gained spectators. Poe was first, followed by a wide-eyed Rose and then by Isaac, accompanied by a slightly dented medical droid named D3-650 who kept making frantic remarks any time one of their sabers came dangerously close to striking flesh (“He insisted on being here,” said Isaac with an apologetic glance). Finn grinned, putting on as best of a show as he could for the little crowd—trying out some of the fancier footwork he had learned, and imitating his sister’s graceful spins (he was always a quick learner) as Poe enthusiastically cheered him on.

There was something delightful about fencing with Naami. It wasn’t just that she was damn good, leaving him with a few shallow scrapes on his shoulders (a favor which he would later return), or that the act itself was already thrilling; rather, there was something almost magical about the knowledge that he wasn’t alone, that his family carried the same gifts and sensitivities that he did. It was like another piece of the puzzle falling into place; it only made sense that a Jedi like himself would fit comfortably in with another saber-slinging family.

Suddenly, it began to rain.

Finn paused, lightsaber still held out in front of him. Naami stared at the sky, eyes wide. It had been sudden; one moment there were clear skies, the next there were fat droplets of water cascading down onto them. There was something lovely about that.

The two turned their lightsabers off. “Damn,” said Naami, resting a hand on Finn’s shoulder, “guess we’ll never know who won that round.”

“Oh, definitely Finn,” said Poe, clapping his shoulder. Naami stuck her tongue out at him. “Come on, Naami, you know he did.”

“Since when were we ever on a first name basis, _Poe_?” she shot back, with laughter in her eyes. “Alright, come on, let’s go inside before Deethree yells at us.”

“How strange,” said Isaac silently as they made their way back inside. “It almost never rains here.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last moments before royalty, there are discoveries in between the piece.

“We need to talk, Madam.”

Lyra’s hologram remained still as Finn stared at her from across the desk. “I have no idea what concerns you at this time, Your Highness, but go on.”

“It concerns yesterday’s news,” he said, considering resting his hands on the desk, but crossing them instead. The president continued to feign ignorance, so he continued, “the article where you talked about… my past.”

“What about it?”

Finn lowered his brows. “Was that necessary? Did you _really_ think the people had to know all the dark details of their prince’s past?”

Lyra merely stared back.

“Madame President,” he said, desperately trying to stay professional, “did you really think that wise?” She stayed silent. “I need an answer here, come _on!_ ”

She hummed. “Absolutely, Your Highness.”

Finn steeled his jaw.

“For twenty-four years, this planet has wondered what happened to you,” she said, tilting her jaw up. “Surely there should be nothing wrong with telling them the truth.”

“Hypothetically,” he said, “but you couldn’t have at least—” He closed his eyes. “Sorry. I mean, wouldn’t it have been wiser to wait until _after_ my arrival was announced? Half the questions I had to answer last night were about being brought up as a Stormtrooper instead of being a Rebel.”

“Eff—” Finn’s gut lurches. “Sorry. _Finn_ ,” said Lyra, “there will never be a right time for anything.”

Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

“Is there anything else you wish to reprimand me for?”

“No,” he said weakly, feeling his hands begin to shake. “That’s all, Madam.”

“Very well.” Without so much as a goodbye, she signed off, leaving him staring at the blank stretch of wall where her image once was.

The bathroom door behind him opened. Out stepped Poe, hair still damp from the shower. “Everything went alright?”

Finn paused. “Sure,” he said.

“Not fully convinced here, pal.”

Finn turned around. “It wasn’t that bad, honest,” he said, gently stroking his cheek. “She was a bit off, but nothing concrete.” Finn wasn’t sure why he was so hesitant. Maybe it was just because it would have been so ridiculous to implicate a neutral head of state as taking the wrong side, or maybe he was just afraid of her. “We’ll be fine.”

Poe hummed, leaning into Finn’s touch. The sun set, highlighting his worried face in a warm glow. “If you say so.”

 

Finn woke up with a start the next morning.

Poe wasn’t slow to notice his excitement. “What’s with the rush, buddy?” he asked, as Finn began to hastily get dressed in the little finery Ruti had given him the day prior.

“Rey’s coming.”

That got Poe moving right out of bed.

Soon, they were both dressed and out the door, riding in another sleek transport headed to the airport. Finn kept squeezing Poe’s hand in excitement the entire ride, hardly even taking in the city view.

They made it through security, and stood rapt at attention on the sandy tarmac as an all-too familiar ship landed, not especially gracefully.

“That’s her,” he said triumphantly, smiling at one of the confused ground crew members.

The door of the _Falcon_ swung open.

And there she was.

Rey stood frozen on the ramp for a moment, looking around her—and then her eyes caught Finn’s. Instantly, she grinned widely, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

Finn knew it wasn’t princely behavior, but he ran up to her anyway, laughing as they embraced.

“Oh, Force,” she said as they separated, still holding onto his arms with that bright smile of hers. “You’re actually a prince.”

“I still can’t believe it,” he said. “Takes a while to soak in, I guess.”

“It really does,” she said, “but I promise you’ll grow into it in time.”

At that, she caught sight of Poe, and went over to give him a quick hug. “Good to see you’re doing well.”

“Right back at ya,” he said, patting her back. “Sorry Rose couldn’t make it—think she’s still sleeping in—”

The unmistakable thump of footsteps reached their ears.

“ _Was_ sleeping in,” he corrected.

As soon as he finished that sentence, Rose came bursting through the sliding doors. “ _Babe!_ ” she shouted, hastily tucking in her shirt. “So sorry I’m late—just heard the news—”

Rey cut her off with a messy kiss. “Don’t be.”

“Stop being so cute in public.”

“Oh, like you’re one to talk, Your Highness,” said Rey, rolling her eyes. He just laughed and planted a noisy kiss on Poe’s cheek.

“Your Highness.”

Finn turned his head around, looking at the shuttle as two definitively non-Rey people descended down the ramp.

“Sorry,” said Rey, “but Leia was just so excited when she heard, and it just got out of hand…”

“I think it went perfectly smoothly,” said Leia, raising her neatly-braided head. “Good to see you, Your Highness.”

Finn smiled. “Good to see you too, Chancellor.”

“Finn!” Immediately, the other woman ran down the walkway—before slowing to a walk, flustered. “I mean, um, Your Highness?”

“It’s fine,” he said, properly greeting the young rebel with a hug. “Hey, Hava.”

Hava grinned. “Hi,” she said, slightly breathily. “What a coincidence, huh?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, as they finally made their way down the security hallway, Rey and Rose in deep conversation.

“Sorry,” she said, rubbing the back of her head. “I mean, it’s just funny how we came from the same planet.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah.” Hava tugged uncomfortably at her heavy, olive-green jacket, probably debating whether it would be worth potentially suffering heatstroke to maintain decorum. “Once the news about you spilled, Leia—I mean, the Chancellor encouraged us all to get tested, see where we came from—and about half of us are Verakhi!”

“That’s amazing!” he said. “I mean, not the kidnappings, but, you know.”

“I know.” Hava softly hummed as they were briefly scanned. “Seems like Verakhat was a very popular destination for First Order raids—I mean, there were your squadrons, and then mine five years later.”

“Makes sense,” he said. “Large population, isolated from galactic politics—it’s almost too perfect.”

Hava stuck her hands in her jacket pockets as they entered the glass foyer again. “Thank the Force no one else will ever be taken from here ever again.”

 

“So you’re telling me your coronation is _tomorrow?_ ”

Finn winced, “Yes, Ma’am,” he said, back straight even while sitting in the sitting room’s comfy couch. “Tomorrow morning.”

“Cut the ma’am, we’re in private here,” said Leia. “So, I’m assuming there will be some sort of ball involved, correct?”

“I’m assuming?”

Leia rubbed her temples. “Alright, then. Finn, how confidently would you rank your dancing abilities?”

Finn could feel the heat leaving his face. “Um.”

She gestured to the room. “Any of you?”

No one spoke.

“Force almighty.”

And that was how Leia organized an emergency dance lesson for the five of them.

“This is important information,” she said, hands folded as Naami stood beside her. “Many important political decisions are made at these events, so it’s imperative to know how to properly dance.” She turned to Naami. “Now, are there any specialty dances here that they ought to know of?”

“Well, there’s the basics,” said Naami, trying to look away from Rey. “You know, the old Alderaanian Waltz, the Chandrilan Two-Step—the Igula’s not really a ballroom thing, but it’s real useful anyways.”

“Can’t help you with the last one, but the first two are pretty standard.” Leia cracked her knuckles (so Finn _wasn’t_ the only one to break from royal behavior on a regular basis, thank the Force). “Everyone, find a partner.”

Finn was about to reach for Poe’s hand when she stepped between them. “Think you might need a little more experience for now, Finn. No offense to either of you.”

“None taken,” he said. Poe just shrugged and went to take Rose’s hand instead. “So, the waltz?”

“The waltz,” she said with a nod, as Hava cheerfully put an arm around Isaac’s shoulder and Naami still tried to avoid making eye contact with Rey. “It’s a pretty straightforward dance, as long as you have the basic six steps memorized. Put your hand on my waist.”

Finn blinked. “General—”

“We’re learning by experience here,” she said, face as serious as ever. “We need to be partners. Put your hand on my waist.”

Finn blankly looked around.

“Finn Altion, you will put your hand on my waist right this instant,” she said in that icy-stiff voice.

“Ok, ok.” Taking a deep breath, Finn gently lay his right hand on Leia’s waist as she switched on the music. Soon, the room was full with the sounds of a sweet classical three-step.

“Now, the steps are as follows,” she said, loud enough for the rest of the room to hear. “It’s a three step—so the leads step forward with their left foot, sideways with the right, and back together. Like this.”

At that, she urged her right foot back, beckoning for Finn to demonstrate. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward. “There we go.”

“And the other three?”

“The same, but backwards,” she said, stepping forward with the left foot. Instantly, Finn found himself mirroring his footwork from earlier. “Now, about turning…”

Thankfully, now that the first few steps were done and over with, he found it easier to learn how to truly move within these steps, stepping sideways with his feet in a delicate chain of footwork. Within seconds, he was leading the Chancellor in a dance around the room, only stepping on her toes a few times.

“See?” said Leia, smiling up at Finn as they waltzed. “Not that hard after all.”

Around them, everyone else was dancing with various levels of success. Poe and Rose were still figuring out who was leading, while Hava and Isaac floated effortlessly around the room and Naami—well, Naami was definitely making this too hard on herself.

“…um, and if you want, there’s, you know, dips,” she was stammering, cheeks dangerously flushed. “So, you know, you, um, you lean back as far as possible—”

“Like this?” Rey said, dipping down.

“Yeah!” Naami’s hands were absolutely shaking as she supported Rey. “Yeah, Force, exactly like that.”

She briefly caught her brother’s eyes. He cocked his head apologetically.

Thankfully, Leia had them switch partners for the two-step. Immediately, Naami separated from Rey, wiping her face, as her previous partner bounced over to Rose, who gleefully took her hand.

And Finn found himself face-first with Poe.

Poe began to lace his arm around Finn’s neck, but Finn stopped him. “You lead.”

“Finn—”

“Please,” he said. “I just—can you lead this time?”

Poe looked at him for a few moments, before sighing, his eyes cast downwards. “Alright, then,” he said, shifting his arm to Finn’s ribcage.

The two-step was a faster dance, full of quick foot movements and the occasional leap. Still, Finn found there was time enough to talk.

“You understand, right?” he asked as they made their way across the floor. “I mean, I’m just so used to being on a relatively equal footing—I don’t know if I’m ready to be the guy that always leads.”

“No, I understand,” said Poe. “One of us is gonna have to stay with a higher rank than the other, and you don’t wanna think about that. I get you.”

“Poe—”

“It’s fine, Finn.” Poe smiled weakly as he led them through another leap. “If you wanna pretend I’m a prince tonight, I’ll go for it.”

Something about that comment didn’t sit right with Finn. Nevertheless, he tried to return the smile as best as he could and focus on the dance, let himself follow one last time.

 

“So, when did you say you were born?” asked Naami over tea.

“Sixteen after Yavin,” said Hava, hands sandwiched between her legs. “I’m not sure when I was—well, when I left Verakhat, but it was probably during the first month of 17.”

“Interesting.” Naami quirked a brow. “That’s right around another one of Deyarin’s leaves of absence.”

Finn leaned forward. “Absence?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, waving her hand. “Mum said that ever since you disappeared, Lyra’s had these periods where she just disappeared for a few months at a time, couple times a year.” She took a sip of tea. “I always remember as a kid, she’d tell me the Senator from Fezma’at was feeling very sick. Hardly bought it when I got older, though.”

Finn’s grip around his mug of tea tightened. “She still have these spells? It would be a bit inconvenient if she disappeared in the middle of the coronation.”

“Nah, not anymore,” she said. “Last one was around five years ago, and ever since, I guess she’s finally recovered from whatever hell the First Order put her through.”

“Five years ago?” said Hava. “Weird.”

Naami cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

“Well, that was the last round of cadets.”

Finn opened his eyes. “Of course,” he whispered. “They stopped taking in troopers after that. Force knows why, but…”

Naami frowned. “You’re saying that means something?”

“I don’t know if it does,” he said. “All I know is that one day, the Order told us they would temporarily stop taking in “recruits,” and that just happened to be the year the President stopped feeling sick.”

“That is a bit odd,” said Hava. “I don’t know if it’s means anything, though.”

“Regardless of if it does, I’ll just keep an eye on Lyra for the time being,” he said. “Can’t hurt to be safe.”

Naami smirked. “Now you’re talking like a leader.”

 

“Big day tomorrow, huh?”

Finn hummed his agreement as he settled in next to Poe.

“Wild,” said Poe, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “Still can’t believe that in a few hours, it’ll be over. You’ll be a damn prince.”

“Never expected it to happen,” said Finn, leaning into Poe’s touch. “Not just coming home, but being royalty. They’re throwing a parade in my honor, Poe.” He sighed. “This place really missed me.”

Poe hummed. “Of course they did, you’re a good man,” he said simply, as if stating the most obvious fact in the world. “I mean, you’re kind, and generous, and strong, there’s no doubt you deserve to rule.” His voice seemed to waver a tiny bit. “It suits you.”

Finn closed his eyes. Only a few days ago, the whole concept of being a prince would have seemed so foreign, so abstract, so out of his reach; it was amazing how he accepted his fate in such a short amount of time, after meeting his family and speaking to the people— _his_ people. The title felt natural to him, now—nestled right alongside his heart, a comfortable weight of his newfound duty and pride.

Finn turned to face Poe. “I won’t be prince for another twelve hours, though.” Poe tilted his head to the side, so he pulled him in closer. “I’m not saying I don’t want it—but it’s always nice to remember what it was like before.” He pressed a tender kiss to the base of his throat. “Just one last moment where I’m not the center of everyone’s universe,” he whispered.

Later, Finn would stare out the windows, Poe’s arms encircling him as if afraid to let go. The soft winds made the curtains billow gently, flaring up before collapsing once more against the glass.

Just a few more hours, he thought to himself, drifting into sleep. Just a few more hours.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the coronation, Finn finally embraces his fate.

The morning of the coronation unfolded slowly.

Finn woke up at around 0600, too full of restless energy to fall back asleep. Instead, he found himself in the large en-suite bathtub alongside Poe, surrounded by sweet-fragranced water and hot steam. For half an hour, all they did was lay there, soaking up each other’s presence.

Breakfast was a short affair; everyone was still in their sleep clothes and on at least their third cup of caf, taking modest bites of flatbread in preparation for the feast later that day. Naami kept nudging his foot under the table with a grin, and Tikva genuinely looked like she was about to cry.

From there, it was a mad rush to get everything prepared. Floors were scrubbed, windows shined, and statues polished in preparation for the public event about to take place at the palace in several hours; security was briefed on their positions; everyone struggled with getting into their ensembles as early as possible while still being able to grab another chocolate roll or bunch of grapes without ruining their jackets. At 0850, ten minutes before they had to depart, Poe still had his jacket open while carefully guiding a _kibbeh_ to his mouth, hand underneath it to avoid loose crumbs from soiling his undershirt. Finn had only just begun to put on his clothes, too nervous to soil the delicately embroidered purple jacket.

Finally, all preparations were finished, and they were off at 9 sharp to the ancient temple on the other side of Ir Drisha—the royal family in one sleek shuttle, and the Republic attachés in another. And, while he understood the security (and symbolic) reasons for doing so, Finn couldn’t help but feel nervous without Poe at his side.

Especially with the way he had acted at the dance lesson. He had just gone along with being the lead, hardly meeting Finn’s gaze—and when he did, it had always seemed like there was something forced behind that smile. Almost like he had made up his mind about their relationship once the ceremony was over; no doubt that as soon as the festivities would end, Poe would leave him and continue to the Republic, unwilling to be chained down to any form of local politics. And really, he understood that.

It broke his heart, but he understood.

There were few spectators as they arrived half an hour early to the ceremony. Finn was stationed deep in the back of the temple, hidden from view—a chance to catch his breath before the floodgates were open for good.

Naami lay a hand on his shoulder. “You good?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, twisting the ring on his left hand—the one Poe had given him a year ago, the one that had belonged to his mother. “Just—nervous, I guess? First time I’m really gonna show up in front of everyone as a prince.”

“I know the feeling.” She lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, everything’ll go fine. They love you so much, Finn, I swear.”

“Good to know.”

The curtains parted. Out peeked the head of a well-groomed attendant. “They’re ready, Your Highnesses.”

Naami stood up, smoothing down her skirt. “Last chance to back out, you know,” she said with a grin, extending her hand.

“Nah,” he said, taking her hand and standing up. “I think I’m ready.”

Finn, blessedly enough, was not alone during the ceremony.

Naturally, there was the Holy Man leading the affair, along with a crowned Naami at his right for the Exchange of the Crown, and the rest of his family, stationed near the back of the arched entrance (Tikva’s vibrant blue gown and Aria’s cool forest green complemented the purple of his jacket very nicely); to their right were Rose and Poe, representing the Republic in their (comparatively dull) olive uniforms; and to the left was Rey, who had forgone her usual bare-shouldered ensemble and had the sense to wear a tunic with real sleeves. Not to mention, of course, the crowds; aside from the locals and a few familiar faces, Finn could make out several members of nobility and other heads of government in the front sections—many, likely, from planets parsecs away from Verakhat.

All to see their prince return.

The coronation started off with a short, tearful speech by his parents about waiting so many years for their son, and praising the Force for guiding him back to his home planet (it took some effort not to cry—this was being _broadcasted,_ damn it, he could not make a fool of himself today). Next, came the first leg of the ceremony, or the Relief of Duty; while it was usually reserved for heirs and monarchs who had tarnished the holy name of their planet or committed unforgivable felonies, today it was merely a lifting of the burden sitting on Naami’s head for so long—as the Holy Man didn’t fail to remind his audience. “For twenty-three years, she has stepped in for a role she never expected,” he said, gesturing to his cool-faced sister, “and pledged her life to her role as our future queen. Now, however, with the thankful return of the rightful heir, she shall step down, allow her brother to take up his mantle.”

Not an ounce of bitterness was present on her face—not when he was first introduced, and not even at this moment, when her life’s purpose was being taken away from her. Although, perhaps she merely saw it more as a burden being lifted from her shoulders; no longer would she have to pretend to care about a position she had never wanted.

“Blessed is the Force,” he concluded, moving to stand next to her, “as Princess Naami Sera Altion is relieved of her duty as crown princess.”

“With honor,” said Naami, “I willingly step down from my position.” At those words, she neatly removed the crown from her head (there would always remain the act of choice in these ceremonies) and handed it to him. It was a simple one, consisting of two angled silver bands meeting in the front and secured by a crest with the telltale six-sided-star engraved onto it.

Finn had always liked simplicity.

Now, the Holy Man walked up to Finn, crown in his hands.

“The story of this man is one that shall be told for generations to come,” he said, with reverence in his voice. “Kidnapped by a treacherous organization as an infant, he was forced to serve in their militaries with no chance of escape. And yet, despite all odds, he broke free, and has spent these past three years fighting against the very machine that stripped him of his humanity.” Finn tilted his head upwards, delicately biting the inside of his lip; he was never used to such praise on a high scale, and certainly not in front of over four billion people. “And today, he returns to claim his birthright as the royalty he was born as.”

He extended the crown in his arms. “Blessed is the Force, as Prince Finn Ishai Altion is crowned as his mother’s heir.”

Finn fought to keep his voice steady. “With honor,” he said, echoing the words he had repeated dozens of times that morning, “I willingly accept this position.”

And with several expectant eyes on him, Finn took the crown from his arms and coronated himself, binding himself to his homeland once more.

 

With the coronation complete, the major events of today were over.

Now, all that was left was for the family to parade through the city in ornate carriages, waving at their citizens for the next hour as they cheered nonstop. And while Naami might have grumbled about it (“I can’t wave for an hour straight, it kriffing hurts”), Finn found that he rather enjoyed this part.

Because for all the strain that waving and smiling constantly put on his body, there was something healing about seeing the endless crowds of people cheering him on, chanting his name, crying tears of joy—all because of him. The First Order left no room for individual recognition, and even his countless hours in the Resistance command center were largely unrecognized by the general public. Here, he was practically being worshipped every street he passed, celebrated as the hero they saw him as.

This had been his past; this would be his future.

Neither prince nor public lost any energy by the time the carriages neared the palace. Finn was still warmly waving (he _had_ opted to switch hands, though), while the crowds leading up to the palace kept up their adoring act; they waved, they threw flowers, they threw confetti, they—

Something prickled at the back of Finn’s neck.

He had hardly any time to react before grabbing Naami and Isaac’s shoulders and hissing at them to “Duck!” before the blaster shot whizzed over their heads.

Instantly, the scene soured. The cheers of adoration had been replaced with screams as everyone scrambled away. Slowly looking up, Finn found that the guards had apprehended a red-haired man, still gripping a smoking blaster.

The man tried to aim it again, before having his arm bound to his side and his blaster forcibly confiscated. “It wasn’t me!” he yelled helplessly, the people around him rushing away. “I had orders! The president made me do it, it wasn’t me! _It wasn’t me!_ ”

“I don’t like this,” Finn whispered, before leaning out and looking one of the free guards straight in the yes. “Evacuate the premises now. Get every civilian out of the streets as soon as possible, do you understand? I don’t want _anyone_ needlessly in danger!”

The woman nodded, before relaying orders and waving her hands, getting everyone out of the way. Soon, the streets were completely empty, except for the occupied carriages still stalled in the road.

“And get everyone else out of here, too,” he said, turning to look around at his frightened parents, his wide-eyed siblings, his trembling friends. “Leave no one here but security and the president.”

“ _Finn,_ ” gasped his mother, while Poe shook his head.

“Buddy, you can’t—”

“I have to,” he said. “It’s me they’re after, I can’t risk putting you in harm’s way.”

Tikva clasped a tight hand onto his shoulder. “I’ve lost you for twenty-four years,” she said, voice quivering. “I can’t bear to lose you again.”

“Neither can I.”

She looked at him painfully for a few last moments, before peeling away and following the guards in their evacuation routes.

“I don’t know what you’re doing,” said Naami, climbing over the edge of the carriage, “but it’s stupid, you know that?”

“I know,” he said, looking to where Lyra was standing still. “But I’ve done my fair share of stupid things and come out alive.”

“Well, don’t be a complete idiot.” Right before running off, Naami pressed a quick kiss to his cheek—and a lightsaber into his hand.

Lyra was still motionless as Finn approached her, making sure Naami’s lightsaber was well concealed. “So, was he right?” he asked.

Lyra stared unblinkingly ahead. “Was who right?”

“The assassin,” he said. “Did he really act under your orders?”

The president said nothing.

“Answer me,” he said, barely concealing the anger in his voice. “ _Was he right?_ ”

Lyra sighed. “I supposed you’d find out one way or another.”

“ _What?_ ”

“He was right,” she said flatly. Finn gasped, struggling to keep his expression neutral. “You were never meant to return to this planet, FN-2187.”

A violent chill went through his body. “You were there.”

“I was there,” she said, shrugging. “You were such a good child—the others always cried and cried, but you were so well-behaved.” She took a step toward him. “You could have been the model trooper—a true leader among the ranks. But alas, you had to betray us.”

Finn quirked his eyebrow, hand sliding down to where the saber was hidden. “That’s not the first time someone’s called me a traitor,” he said.

“No,” she said, “but it will be the last time you hear it.”

In one fluid motion, she pulled out and ignited a flaming red lightsaber. Instantly, the guards began to shoot at her, only to have their blaster bolts neatly deflected by her and sent cascading at him.

“Stop!” he shouted, ducking the barrage of bolts flying at him. The shooting halted. “I have to handle this.”

With that, he pulled out his sister’s lightsaber and turned it on.

Naami’s saber felt different—the Force signature was off by only a few shades. Yet at the same time, it still fit comfortably in his hands, similar enough to his own that it didn’t weigh him down as he swung at the president.

Lyra had evidently not carried over any of her homeland’s training into her fighting style; it was rough and choppy, full of erratic swings and brute strength. Finn did his best to strike against her with speed and fluidity, leaping to the side and disengaging her blade.

“The Jedi have taught you well,” she mused, raising her saber down again.

He raised his arms, holding the jagged blade back as she pressed down harder. “I am no Jedi,” he hissed.

With a determined yell, he swung her off, leaving her staggering on her feet as he readjusted himself, swinging around his blade.

Lyra kept staggering back with every parry, eventually doubling back with the force of their crossed blades; there was a chance here to stop her, but he had to act quickly.

A foolish chance, but he had to take it.

Slowly lifting his left hand off of the hilt, Finn carefully extended it, relishing in her stunned expression as she flew backwards a few feet, lightsaber turning off. He knew there was only a window of a few seconds before she’d recollect herself and reignite it; this would be it.

Extending his arm again, he tugged at the Force with all his might, willing the dark saber to come flying into his hand. It shot right out of her hand, neatly falling into place.

With an angry yell, Lyra came racing towards him—until two guards finally got their chance and pinned her in place.

Finn exhaled. “Take her away,” he said, surprised at how steady his voice was after the ordeal. “And take this somewhere safe,” he continued, handing Lyra’s corrupted lightsaber hilt to another officer.

A hand gently lay itself on his shoulder. Finn turned around to see a guard, her face neutral yet reassuring. “Come on, Your Highness,” she said. “Let’s get you home.”

 

“No signs of severe external damage,” said the medical droid in a collected voice as it finished its scanning of Finn.

Finn, for his part, was lying down in the palace’s infirmary, elegant jacket temporarily substituted for a medical gown, faint blue and loose around his fatigued body. A few bacta patches delicately marked his face and left bicep from where Lyra had landed her few blows (no doubt Ruti was busy patching up his jacket sleeve with a fair amount of grumbling), while the droid continued its check, running scanners along his arms and head.

“No fractures or dislocations.” The whirring continued. “No signs of traumatic brain injury. There are signs of moderate mental exhaustion and minor muscle fatigue, however.” Finn exhaled. “Patient Finn must be allowed to rest considerably before resuming any activity.”

“We’ll just move the ball ahead by two hours, then,” said Tikva, walking into the room with her hands clasped in front of her. “Start it at 1800 instead of 1600.”

“No worries, I always did prefer dinner banquets,” said her wife drily as she approached Finn with a brief glance at the droid. “May I?”

“Yes, he is stable.”

Aria crossed her arms as she sat down next to her son. “That was quite foolish of you,” she said, stern words softened somewhat by the worried crease of her brows.

“I know,” he said, staring up at the brightly lit ceiling. “Sorry.”

She lifted her hand. “Foolish, but extraordinarily brave.” She gently lay it on Finn’s own hand, still cramped from his exertions earlier. “I expected you to be a fighter, yes, but not one with such initiative—or compassion.”

Finn closed his eyes. “I’m not sure it was compassion, Ima. I just didn’t want anyone else caught in the crosshairs.”

“Very few leaders think the way you do,” she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “This galaxy could use a fair amount more of compassion.”

“And cleverness,” added Tikva, taking a seat beside her wife. “You managed to discover in four days what we could not in nearly three decades of knowing Madam Deyarin.” No longer President—she’d been immediately suspended from office following her arrest. “That’s more than just intelligence or sensitivity—that’s pure brilliance.” She smiled softly, though Finn could still see the sparkle of tears in her eyes. “There is no doubt you will be a fantastic leader, distant may that day be.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

The infirmary door hissed open.

And in ran Poe, nervously running a hand through his curls. “Is Finn—”

The droid held up its hand. “No more than two visitors at a time.”

Aria stood up, relinquishing Finn’s hand. “I suppose we should give you some privacy,” she said, kissing his forehead before leaving the room with her wife.

Finn sat up as Poe walked over to his bed. “Hey.”

“Hi,” said Poe, smiling faintly as he laced their fingers together. “Not exactly how we planned this day to go, huh?”

“Gotta be prepared for anything,” said Finn, gently rubbing his thumb across his palm.

“Heard you tore up another jacket.”

“Well, I’ve got a record to break.” He shrugged. “At least this time it’ll be fixed by a real tailor, and not just some lovestruck idiot with a stapler.”

“Excuse you, that was a solid repair job.”

Finn smiled, reaching out with his other hand to cup Poe’s cheek, who immediately leaned into the touch. “I know. Next time, though, I’ll try to stay away from lightsabers.”

Poe huffed.

“What?”

“I just,” he said, “Finn, I just can’t believe you sometimes.”

Finn lowered his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you nearly get killed, and all you can think of is getting everyone else to safety?” He sighed, shaking his head. “You really love your people, huh?”

“ _Our_ people,” he gently corrected, stroking Poe’s cheek.

Poe hummed, closing his eyes. “Our people.”

 

Finn took a deep breath, gingerly adjusting the collar of his jacket.

In the time it took for him to rest before the ball, Ruti had managed to patch up the sleeve—and very neatly. The place where Lyra’s lightsaber had slashed through it was only really visible from up close, and from the right angle; he really would have to commend her sometime for her skills.

But not now. Now, he would have to focus all of his attention on being presentable in front of the many distinguished guests surrounding him in the elegant ballroom, alternating between taking sips of sweet wine and shaking his hand excitedly, babbling on about how fantastic he was.

It would be nice, except for the fact that he had no idea which was honest praise, and which was just flattery.

“Prince Finn!”

Sighing, Finn turned on his heels to face an overjoyed Twi’lek woman in a flowing powder-blue dress. “My name is Gida-Aziela Bondara,” she said, bowing deeply. “It is such an honor to meet you.”

“Pleasure to meet you, too.”

“I’ve heard so much about you!” Aziela’s eyes shone as she kept talking at a rapid-fire pace. “Is it true you really single-handedly fought Kylo Ren with a lightsaber? _Twice?_ ”

“To be fair, I lost the first time,” he said, smiling as his fingers fluttered at his side—if he was going to be nervous, it would have to be _discreetly,_ damn it.

“But you _did_ defeat him, right?”

“That’s true.”

She squealed.

“Your Highness!” called out a pale, stern-faced woman in an opulent layered gown, taking long strides towards him and practically shoving Aziela out of the way. “Archduchess Ressia Coari of Seaneraan. A pleasure to meet another powerful commander.” She extended her hand in a crisp motion.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said, trying not to wince as the archduchess nearly crushed his hand.

“Do send my warmest regards to the chancellor,” she continued without an ounce of warmth in her voice. “I hold nothing but respect for that woman—and, of course, anyone in cooperation with her.”

The wave of royalty kept crashing over Finn. One young prince barely Isaac’s age introduced himself as Brisel Vorneas of Viora, and was simply delighted to meet “such a powerful Jedi!” Another woman was unmistakably Queen Ayako herself of Naboo. “I hope on behalf of the Republic that Verakhat will prosper under your leadership,” she said as she shook his hand.

They were all so excited to meet him. And, frankly, it was getting a little overwhelming.

“Iyala,” said Naami as Finn stuffed another hors d’oeuvre in his mouth.

“Wha?

“I’d dance with Iyala if I were you, she’s lovely.”

“Who?”

“Aziela’s sister, the one in the orange.”

Finn swallowed. “You sure you’re not just projecting?”

“Absolutely not,” she said, taking a sip of champagne. “It’s just that Iyala’s been eyeing you up this entire time, I’d dance with her tonight.”

Finn frowned. “Naami, everyone’s been—”

“Or if that’s not your thing, the Duke of Shahar’s good looking,” she said, almost too loudly. “Name’s Amir or something.”

“No, I—”

“You what?” Naami cocked her head. “You know, it’s customary for the prince to dance with _someone_ on the eve of his coronation—”

“Stop yelling,” he whispered, wincing.

She frowned. “I’m not _yelling_ ,” she said loudly, as the orchestra began to warm up. “And frankly, you should make up your mind soon, the first dance is in fifteen minutes…”

Finn was hardly processing what his sister was telling him. Every word caused his eardrums to throb, and the cacophony of the strings wasn’t helping, and neither was the fact that the lights were just _so damn bright,_ and frankly—

“…so really, you just look better with a consort on your arm—Finn, are you even _listening_ to anything I’m saying?”

“I, um…” His hands started to shake. “I, I—I need to go.”

And then he ran out of the ballroom.

Naami tried to call after him, but Finn wasn’t paying attention to her as he wove through the thick crowds of admirers and— “Sorry,” he mumbled as he accidentally into Aziela.

She cocked her head. “Your Highness, are you alright?” she asked, blessedly softly.

“What? Oh, yes.” He straightened himself, brushing off invisible dust. “Yes, I just… need some fresh air.”

“I understand.” She smiled. “Take care, alright?”

He nodded, giving her a weak grin before continuing to make his way to the hallway.

As soon as the double doors closed behind him, he let himself collapse onto the floor and breathe heavily, head leaned back against the stone wall.

Naami’s words echoed in his mind. “ _It’s customary for the prince to dance with someone… you just look better with a consort on your arm…_ ” Shit.

Of _course,_ they were all out to try and charm their way onto the throne, what else? It was probably just another part of being a prince, after all—constantly having obsessive admirers doting over him and determined to win him over. Even back in the Resistance, he had already won over the hearts of many soldiers—and all his accomplishments against the First Order weren’t even half as attractive as that crown that sat on top of his head. And sure, his mother had been able to ignore the pressure, but would he be able to last?

The doors opened.

Finn screwed his eyes shut as he heard the telltale click of several shutters, before they abruptly stopped as someone yelled at them. “Alright, get back, get back inside,” she said. “His Highness needs some privacy. Yes, I’ll explain later, just _get back in._ ”

Finn gasped, opening his eyes as Rose shooed the flood of journalists and photographers back into the ballroom and closed the doors on them. “No respect,” she whispered to herself, before turning around to face him with a concerned expression. “Finn, you ok?”

“Kind of,” he breathed. “It’s just—there’s so many people in there after me, you know?” Rose’s hand flew to her side. “No, not like that—I mean in the romantic way.”

Her hand stilled. “Oh.” Her head flew to the door. “I’m, uh, sorry to hear—hey, is there anything I can do?”

“I don’t—” He paused, thinking for a moment, before nodding. “Get Poe,” he said in a stronger voice.

“Now?”

“Now.”

With a quick nod, Rose walked back inside. A few seconds later, the doors opened again to reveal Poe running out. “Finn, buddy, what’s happening?”

Finn raised his hands. “Nothing serious, just… I mean, you know how everyone in there is dying to get my hand in marriage, right?”

Poe paused, breathing hard. Something seemed to shift in his eyes. “Of course,” he said, far too calmly for Finn’s liking. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Poe—”

“They want you,” he said, walking around. “Of course, who doesn’t want you? You’re fucking amazing, Finn.”

Finn lowered his brows. “Poe, what the hell are you talking about?”

Poe turned back around to him—and _oh_ , that was sorrow in his eyes. “Well, I won’t get in the way,” he said. “I totally understand if you can’t be seen with a common man like me.”

_Oh._

Finn’s heart jolted. All this time, he thought Poe wanted to leave him for his own sake—but it was never for himself, was it? He always had to be stupidly selfless.

He shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t know?” said Poe, voice rising ever so slightly. “Of course. Finn, you’re a prince—”

“I _know_.”

“—and I’m not—I’m _nothing_ —so there’s no way we can—”

“ _Poe._ ”

He paused, quivering finger in the air. “ _What?_ ” he said in a shaky voice.

“I’m serious, you have no idea what you’re going on about.”

“Prove me wrong, then.”

Finn stood up. “You know what kind of woman my mother married?”

“Some high-class duchess from across the planet?”

“A fishmonger’s daughter.”

Poe gasped, eyes widening.

“Yeah.” Finn nodded. “She really _was_ a nobody—but that didn’t stop them. And you know what? No one stopped them. The royal line is only half the equation,” he continued, resting a hand on Poe’s tense shoulder, “because who’s to say that only the elites get to decide the fate of their home?”

Poe shook his head. “So you’re saying—”

“I’m saying I couldn’t care less about seducing anyone in there,” he said. “They were never there by my side when I fought against the Order, they never went on any wild missions with me—they never gave me their jacket and stapled it together when it was ruined.”

He could feel his heart speed up as Poe paused, jaw hanging open.

“Poe, I love you,” he whispered, leaning their foreheads together. “You’re a part of my life, I can’t leave you behind to chase after someone who only superficially wants me.”

“Buddy, you don’t have to do this.”

“I _want_ to,” he said. “If it’s ok with you, I’d like you to be there by my side, regardless of what happens.”

Poe let out a weak chuckle. “You sure?”

“Of course.” Eyes bright, Finn held onto both his shoulders. “Poe, marry me.”

Poe’s smile dropped.

His chest tightened. That was… that had sort of come out without thought, had it been the wrong thing to say? “Poe?”

“Holy shit,” he whispered. “You’re really serious…”

“You’re scaring me here, man.”

“Yes,” he said, eyes wide and shining with tears. “Finn, _yes,_ holy shit, do you know how long I’ve waited for—”

With a watery laugh, Finn pulled him in for a tight hug, letting him rest his head on his elegant shoulder.

It was always about balance, he thought as he embraced Poe. It was never about staying in his past life or fully immersing himself in his future; he had to carry both over with him. And really, what was a better example of balance than ruling your new kingdom with your longtime boyfriend?

“Ok,” said Poe, pulling away from the hug, “we should probably go back inside sometime soon.”

Finn studied his face—tear-streaked, yet full of determination. “We’re doing this?”

“Think you know the answer to that one,” said Poe, sliding an arm around his shoulder as they walked back in.

 

Naami was starting to freak out.

It had already been ten minutes since Finn just bolted out of there, and she hadn’t seen him since. Sure, Rey’s girlfriend had come on declaring that he was asking for Poe, but that was it—and besides, it was almost time for the first dance, he couldn’t just sit it out, when the hell was he gonna—

The doors opened.

“Sorry for the delay,” said Finn, walking in side by side with Poe. “There were just a few matters I had to clear up at the last minute, but everything should be fine now.”

The hubbub intensified. He raised a single hand; everyone became silent almost immediately. “That said, there is an announcement I have to make.”

He gently lay a hand on Poe’s shoulder.

_Oh._

“For three years,” he said, “Admiral Poe Dameron has been a good ally in battle, and one of the kindest men I’ve ever known. It was no surprise, then, that he has won over my heart.” He smiled fondly at the man beside him. “And now tonight, I intend to take his hand as my lifelong companion.”

The people’s gasps echoed around the ballroom. Naami swore she heard the unmistakable _thump_ of someone’s head hit the floor. Probably the archduchess’s.

Finn looked around. “Yeah, that’s… it.”

Immediately, the room burst into applause and cheers. Someone nearby whistled as the couple shared a quick kiss, still in each other’s arms.

Next to her, Isaac snorted.

“Excuse me?” she asked, turning to him with a frown.

“No, it’s just—” He smiled, head in his hand. “Finn’s gonna fit here perfectly, I think.”

“Yeah,” she said, as the orchestra began to play its first few notes.

Isaac ran off in the direction of Aziela (still excited to get to dance with any royalty, really) as Finn neatly bowed and extended a hand to his new fiancé, who graciously accepted it.

“It’s nice how everything worked out.” Naami turned her head to see Hava beside her, dressed in a neat tux rather than the drab Republic fatigues. “Kind of a miracle, I guess.”

“Perhaps,” said Naami with a smile as the waltz played on. “Well, may I have this dance?”

“Oh, certainly.”

 

The aftermath could only be described as an exhilarating chaos.

First, of course, there was the matter of what to do with former president Deyarin; the charges brought against her of concealing foreign interests, abducting children, and attempted murder more than netted her a lifetime sentence. And since, unfortunately, a good portion of her cabinet were either in on the conspiracy or really didn’t want to assume office, the task fell onto the Secretary of State. Not that Finn minded—he always felt that he trusted Zora a lot more than the president she had served under.

Then, there was the whole affair they had _originally_ landed here for—the matter of joining the Republic. Thankfully, the motion was put up for a vote under the senate, and passed with a comfortable majority. With Zora and Tikva’s signatures, it became official; Verakhat would now be a voting member of the New Republic, neutral no longer.

And finally, as trivial as it seemed, the prince _was_ in a bit of a hurry to tie the knot—leading to possibly the most lavish last-minute wedding in quite some time. Within a week, Finn and Poe found themselves travelling the same parade route, this time as newly wedded husbands.

Finally, as the hubbub died down, it was time to leave.

“Say hi to all the kids from me,” said Finn as he embraced Rose in front of their shuttle. “And do try to hurry up and get married already.”

“Just because you had a seven-day engagement doesn’t mean we all have to,” she said, giving him one last fond squeeze before pulling away. “Try to visit sometime, alright? Don’t be a stranger”

“Yeah, Finn,” said Naami, crossing her arms. “Something tells me this Order might drive me nuts.”

“I’ll try,” he said, giving her a quick salute. “Rey, try not to drive my sister crazy.”

“No promises,” said Rey. He just chuckled, rolling his eyes as Poe shook Naami’s hand.

“Do I have your blessing?”

“Sure,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “But seriously, Finn, if this guy does anything stupid—”

“I’ll do my best not to, then,” he said, with that charming smile of his.

Naami looked behind her. “Well, think we got to leave soon,” she said. “Oy, Senator, you got our things secured?”

“Got it,” called out Hava from the shuttle. “Alright, let’s go.”

With a final wave, Naami turned around with her companions to board the ship. Finn and Poe watched them leave.

“You ready?” asked Finn once the roar of the ship had died down.

Poe turned his head. “For what?”

A bounty of thoughts surfaced to his mind. He decided to sum them all up. “For the rest of our lives,” he said, turning around and heading back through the halls of the spaceport. “For all this.”

Poe smiled softly, leaning his head against his husband’s shoulder as they made their way down towards the bustling heart of the city—towards their future. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me until the end there! Hope y'all enjoyed that.  
> As always, feel free to hit me up on my Tumblr [@lesbiangffa](http://lesbiangffa.tumblr.com) , and have a great new year.


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